


You Come Regular Like Seasons

by knittycat99, nubianamy



Series: The Donutverse [14]
Category: Glee
Genre: Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dancing and Singing, Discipline, Dom/sub, Donutverse, Episode: s01e14 Hell-O, Family Drama, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:11:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2827859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittycat99/pseuds/knittycat99, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt, Puck and Finn negotiate new relationships while doing their best to maintain existing ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published as chapters 1-6 of The Fingers of Your Fire. 
> 
> Set just before, during and after episode 1.14 Hell-O. This story follows [Bending in the Archer's Hand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/254675/).
> 
> You can listen to the 8track playlist for Fingers of Your Fire [here](http://8tracks.com/nubianamy/the-fingers-of-your-fire) (part of the enormous FoYF one is still [on YouTube here](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLc72s_nGT2yT62f9-u6XxCAAE_VjrOVen), although people keep deleting the videos I link to!). I will also include links to all songs throughout the story, for reference.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Finn ask Puck about his trip to Tessera while the rest of the family interrupts them. Tess and Carl get a phone call from Carole. Jesse St. James has breakfast with his dad.

**Prologue**

**Saturday, January 2, 2010**

"Sweetheart?" Kurt murmured, his hand on Puck's head.

Puck looked up from the musical scrawls in his staff notebook. As usual, when he sat beside the couch, he was on the floor at Kurt's feet. "Yeah, baby?"

"I was... wondering," he hedged, avoiding Finn's inquisitive gaze. "You never did tell us about your visit to Tessera."

Puck laughed in surprise. He turned to face them both. "Uh... I guess I didn't? But I totally would, if you wanted to hear about it. I mean, Tess said we could all come visit."

Finn leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, and grinned. "No way. Like your dad would ever let us go."

"That's what we thought about LA and Gaga, too, and what did the two of us get for Christmas?" Kurt waved his hand grandly. "Voilà - plane tickets."

"Yeah, but..." Finn lowered his voice to a whisper. "We're not going to  _Los Angeles_  to have kinky sex. And tell me, honestly, what  _else_ would we be doing at Tessera?" He turned to Puck. "Am I right?"

"Totally," Puck agreed. "Unless some miracle occurs and your dad suddenly gets even more awesome than he is already, we're going to have to stick with having kinky sex right here."

"Fine, then." Kurt puffed a breath into his hair, blowing the strands off his forehead. "At least tell us about your trip, so we'll know what to expect once we're all 18 and can go ourselves."

"Mmmm." Puck leaned on one elbow, thinking, a faint smile on his face. "Well, I got to meet the chef of Chanterelle. James. He's totally huge, like, scary tall. And he makes a mean roulade." He grinned. "He wrote me a note so I could stop at Charlie Trotter's in Chicago on the way home. I totally got to tour the back kitchens, and talk to all the sous chefs..." He paused, his smile fading, at Kurt's expression. "What?"

"Noah, I love to  _eat_  your food," Kurt said. "But I'm pretty sure that you're the only one who wants to  _talk_  about it right now. Come on. Tell me something astonishing that you saw while you were at Tessera."

"Yes, sir," Puck muttered, attempting to sound sarcastic, but Kurt knew better. Then he brightened. "Oh, I know - there was this guy in a leather vest and jeans, leading a woman wearing a full face mask, on a leash. Totally naked otherwise." He looked up hopefully. "Better?"

"Uh... yeah." Kurt felt a little flushed. "Better. That counts as astonishing."

"I don't think I'd want anyone leading me around on a leash," Finn said, wrinkling his nose.

Puck raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Not even  _Carl?"_

Finn shivered. "Um," he stammered. "Tell us something else."

Puck's grin persisted. "There was a white-haired guy who had a single-tail whip, and he was, like, fifteen feet across from this chick, and she was hanging things from her nipples -"

" _Things?"_  Kurt choked. "What kind of  _things?"_

"I don't know. Little decorations. They could have been car parts for all I cared. Dude. Can I go on?" He waited impatiently for Kurt's nod. "So he stood way the fuck back  _there,_  and flicked the whip, and there was a really fucking loud  _crack,_ and - "

"Boys?" They all jumped and looked up, and even Finn couldn't avoid looking guilty as Carole's face peered down at them from the stairs. "Who's going to be here tonight for dinner?"

"Uh, all of us, I think?" Kurt said, glancing around at them. Finn and Puck both nodded. "Three here. You might want to check with Sarah; she was talking about getting together with Frances, I think..."

"Got it covered." She smiled at them. "What are you guys talking about?"

Kurt swallowed back a cough, and felt his ears turning pink. "Just - Puck's trip."

"Oh, that's good. I'll call you when dinner's ready, then." She backed up the stairs, and Puck listened carefully for her footsteps to cross the kitchen.

He blew out a breath. "Okay, man, your mom's totally cool, but there are things she probably doesn't want to hear her son's boyfriend talking about."

Finn shook his head. "Kinky past," he whispered, his eyes on the floor. "Things I never needed to know."

Kurt patted his arm indulgently. "Poor traumatized Finn. I still don't think you want your mother to know everything, even if  _she_  doesn't mind the oversharing."

"Oh, hell," Puck said, slapping the couch in excitement. "I totally forgot about the cross."

"The... cross?" Kurt said slowly. He knew Puck was religious, but he was  _Jewish_ , while Kurt himself was about as atheist as they came, but using a  _cross_  in that setting... it was hard not to feel like that was sacrilegious.

"The St. Andrew's cross," Puck clarified, his hazel eyes sparkling. "Like a big X, right? There was a woman hanging from it, spread-eagle..." Finn leaned forward, and Kurt found himself doing the same; it was hard not to get drawn in by Puck's enthusiasm. "She could watch the guy flogging her in a little mirror by her head."

"Whoa." Finn looked intrigued. "You liked that."

"Fuck, yeah," Puck declared. "I had a dream about it the night after. You were there, and you, and the boy from the club -"

"And you, too, scarecrow," Kurt muttered. "There's no place like home?"

"Kind of?" Puck shrugged, not seeming bothered by the ribbing. "But yeah, I'd love to try that."

Kurt exchanged a look with Finn. Puck's newfound desire to dominate the boy in the club notwithstanding, he was primarily submissive - and it was likely that they could guess who had been doing the dominating in Puck's dream.

"Adam," Finn said, with a barely disguised grimace. "He held the flogger, huh?"

Puck looked suddenly uneasy. "Yeah," he said. "And... well. Whatever. Dreams are so weird..."

"Oh,  _not_  Adam?" Kurt grinned. "Who was it, then?"

Puck poked at the coffee table with one foot. "Uh... you? And... well, both of you, but... I wasn't in such a good space, I guess. Finn was... oh, fuck it. Things are totally better now. And I have enough new dreams every night anyway; I don't need to talk about the old ones."

Kurt ran his hand over Puck's neck, and felt his chest rise and fall with his sigh. Puck's dreams had always kept him awake, but since he'd returned from Santa Fe, they'd primarily focused on his new lover Adam, his daughter, due to be born in the spring, and the mysterious boy from the club. Kurt still wasn't sure what to make of any of them, but they didn't seem to be going away. He decided to touch on the least worrisome and most immediate of them. "Adam would enjoy Tessera, wouldn't he?"

Puck nodded, leaning into Kurt's touch. "Tess talked to him on the phone, when we were there. I think she wanted to make sure he wasn't doing anything... you know, inappropriate..."

Puck's face when he talked about Adam definitely verged on  _inappropriate,_ but Kurt didn't think it was his place to reprimand him about it.  _They're in love,_  he thought firmly.  _Nothing wrong with that. And, yes, maybe Adam did use a paddle on his behind... but he bought me one to use, too._  The logic there made a convoluted sense to Kurt, at least in that moment, and he refused to dig any further.

Puck was going on. "But  _he_  could be there, with me, because he's an adult, as long as we all have permission. He said we should meet there sometime, the five of us." Puck nodded at Finn, who looked startled. "You and Carl could go."

"To Tessera? I, uh... I really don't think I could handle seeing Carl and Tess together... like  _that._ " He squirmed in his seat. "It's just... disturbing."

Kurt thought Finn was being a little hypocritical, complaining about the idea of  _Carl_  being Topped, when Kurt himself had witnessed Finn's own submissive reaction to Carl more than once. He didn't want Finn to be any more self-conscious about it than he already was.  _He'd only just gotten used to the idea of being a Top himself when he'd been ambushed and smitten by Carl._  Kurt understood the brain-twisting that sometimes went along with being a switch. And he knew the effect Carl had on Finn. Kurt couldn't deny he was handsome, but Finn was definitely responding to more than just his dashing good looks.

"So Tess seemed to approve of Adam, then?" Kurt said, trying to drag the conversation back to more comfortable territory.

"Yeah, I think she might even have him come perform there sometime. He'd be a big moneymaker for her." He laughed. "They totally tag-teamed me, when I got up in the middle of the night and went poking around in the guest room... she gave me a hell of a sp- oh, hey, Burt."

Kurt looked up to see his dad standing right there, next to the television. He wondered how long he'd been there. Yes, his dad had said  _no more secrets,_  but that didn't mean he  _really_  wanted to know what that paddle Adam had sent him for Christmanukkah was supposed to be used for. "Hi, dad," he said.

"Puck," his dad said, staring fixedly at the empty coffee table, "Carole needs some help using that mandoline slicer you got for Christmas?"

"See, I  _told_  her I'd make dinner," Puck said, climbing to his feet and trotting up the stairs after Burt.

"She wanted to do it, for once. Just humor her, okay? And for god's sake, tell her it's delicious." Their voices faded away as they rounded the corner to the upstairs.

In the silence, Finn stretched out one long leg across the couch and touched Kurt's knee tentatively with his foot. "You wouldn't feel weird, if I... went to Tessera?"

Kurt nudged Finn's foot back. "With Carl?" Finn blushed and looked away, but after a moment. he nodded. Kurt thought about it. "I don't think so," he finally said. "If Tess trusts him, and he's taking good care of you... I can't complain."

"Kurt," Finn said gently. "You  _could._  I mean, dude, you're my  _boyfriend._ You don't have to like it that I'm... that we're..." He shrugged.

He knew Finn didn't feel any more comfortable talking about his feelings for Carl than Kurt did. "No," Kurt assured him. "It's not our agreement. No hiding; no lying. Right?"

"Yeah," Finn agreed. "I'm just trying not to feel too guilty about it."

That was a big enough admission for Finn that Kurt crawled across the couch and into his lap, twining his arms around his neck and kissing him until Finn stopped resisting and kissed him back. "You're not breaking any agreements," Kurt said, when they paused for air. "You're just being honest."

"For fuck's sake," they heard from the stairs, "I walk out of the room for five minutes and the two of you are into each other's pants."

Puck was smiling, of course. No matter what else was happening outside of their triad, it was a relief to know they could count on it - that they were back together. Mostly. Things weren't one hundred percent back to normal between Puck and Finn, but it was good enough that when Puck leaned over to kiss Kurt, he paused to kiss Finn, too.

"The two of you are just so damn sexy together," he whispered against their lips, and Kurt couldn't help but shiver.

"You should talk," Kurt murmured back, running a hand under Puck's t-shirt and tucking a finger into the waistband of his jeans. Finn made a low groan and cupped a hand behind Kurt's head - just in time to see Sarah and Frances stepping through the door to the garage, stamping off their boots and laughing.

"Bad timing, squirt," Puck muttered, while Finn sighed. Kurt climbed back out of Finn's lap with reluctance - but, really, as mature an eleven-year-old Sarah was, they didn't need to add to her education by making out in front of her.

"Hi, Frances," Finn said, smiling at her, and she blushed crimson before giving a little half-wave back.

"You have got to see the snow fort we built," Sarah declared, flopping down on the couch between Kurt and Finn. Frances perched on the edge of the coffee table. "It has four rooms, a snowball stockroom, six turrets and a lookout tower.  _And_  a secret escape hatch with a slide."

"And we will happily destroy you tomorrow at noon," Puck said cheerfully. "Winner takes possession of the fort and has to do dishes for a week."

"Deal," Sarah said, grinning. It was kind of a joke, because of course Puck didn't mind doing the dishes. She reached over Kurt to shake Puck's hand.

"It's supposed to be forty-six tomorrow afternoon, anyway," Frances offered. "It'll probably melt before -"

"Way to sustain the illusion of strength," Sarah muttered, rolling her eyes, but Frances didn't seem to be offended. "We'll hammer you with our arsenal before it all disappears like so much frozen water. And Tatenui told me to tell you that it'll be dinner in fifteen minutes, so you should stop sticking your tongues down each other's throats."

"He never said that," Kurt demanded, as Frances made a squeaking noise.

"So I'm exaggerating. It's still almost dinner. Come on, guys." She stood up again, and Frances stood with her. "You can have all the tongue you want after we eat."

Finn watched Sarah head up the stairs with disappointment. "Fifteen minutes?"

But Kurt just coaxed Puck off the floor. "Come on, Finn. This is  _us._  Fifteen minutes is plenty." He beckoned him toward his bedroom door with one finger. "I bet we'll even have enough time for a shower afterwards."

"Yeah, and I didn't tell you about the specialty rooms yet," Puck added with a wicked grin, looping his arm around Finn's waist. "Like the school room... or the  _military room_... or the  _doctor's office..."_

"God," Finn moaned, and Kurt couldn't suppress a smile as he closed the door.

* * *

**One Week Ago**

Carole set down her knitting, glancing into the living room at Kurt and Finn playing video games on the small television - well, Finn playing video games, and Kurt complaining - and thought about what she had  _seen_  between her son and his new sweetheart. She sighed.  _I have no idea what to do with this._

The fact was, Finn seemed to be taking after her. It was true, Christopher had never been very understanding about her history, and she had mostly kept it to herself. It was in her past - things she had given up in favor of being a sensible single mother - but that didn't make them any less a part of her.

She needed to talk to someone about this, and she knew it wasn't going to be Burt. He was the kindest, funniest, most thoughtful man she'd met in years, but he was as vanilla as they came, and even the thought of some of the activities his own son might be involved in was enough to give him hives. This made her chuckle to herself.  _Which means my son is probably doing them, too._

It wasn't really so much of a surprise. The hardest thing was thinking about him doing them with this new gentleman. Even judging by the few minutes of interaction she'd witnessed between Finn and Carl, it was clear what role he was playing in that relationship. It wasn't exactly in line with the way she'd always thought of her son. Nor was it really compatible with the way he'd been behaving with Puck for - well, for their entire friendship, really.

 _But things had clearly changed there, too,_  she thought. Finn and Puck were on more equitable terms now than they ever had been. Maybe it wasn't what she'd thought, after all? She sighed. She needed more information, but she didn't want to press Kurt on a topic that clearly was personal to him, and Finn wasn't in any position to discuss it.

Then she considered what Kurt had said:  _Carl is Tess's friend._  It was clear who she needed to call.

* * *

Tess tucked her feet up underneath her, and gave Carl a smile as he draped a soft afghan over her. "Thank you, honey."

"What are we watching?"

"What would you like? I'd like to do something that doesn't involve me thinking for a little while."

He laughed, picking up the remote to click the television on, looking to see what was in the DVD player. Carl glanced beside himself at her, but as usual she showed no reaction.

"Seriously, Tess? Gone With The Wind?

"Argue with Clark Gable, you little beast. And put something else in, if you like."

"Hmm. Portrait of Jennie?" He knew Tess loved the old black and white films - "Hey, ow," he protested, as she swatted his hip.

"No, my lovelorn darling, not Portrait of Jennie. Try again."

"Mmm. Top Hat? Astaire and Rogers?"

"Yes please," she said with satisfaction, starting to rise. He laid a gentle hand on her arm.

"I'll get it, Tess." He changed discs, and turned to see her smiling at him. "What?"

"I'm glad to have you with me," she told him firmly. "Thank you for coming back."

"Of course." He leaned down and kissed her cheek, and took a seat next to her.

The opening scene rolled, and Tess jumped a little.

"Tess?"

"My phone," she sighed, fishing it out of her pocket. "I can't imagine who - oh my. Honey-" Carl's eyes were panicked as he glanced at the display, and spotted Carole's name. "Hush. It's fine - there's three boys there, love, who might need a word. You relax. Carole? Hello there," she said easily, patting Carl's thigh firmly as she rose.

 _"Tess,"_ Carole said, smiling. _"It's nice to hear your voice. Thanks for picking up - I hope I'm not disturbing you?"_

"Heavens no, Carole. You're fine."

She sounded calm, but Tess thought she might be detecting a note of anxiety behind her relaxed exterior. _"That's good to know. Are you having a good Christmas?"_

"Absolutely. My father's always here for Christmas, and he and the boys spoil me terribly," Tess said fondly. "James and Stephen stay as well; they're family."

_"I'm so glad to hear that. I'm having more of a family Christmas than I have in years. My own family - and there are a lot of them, believe me - are all far away, and I don't see them very often."_

"I'm sorry, Carole," Tess said compassionately.

_"Oh, no - now that Puck is back in Lima, I see plenty of the three of them together. It's nice to be home with Burt and the boys."_

"How are they? I haven't had a call from Puck in a few days."

She heard a hesitation. _"It's good,"_ she said. _"They're so much better than they were this past month, after the fight. But it's... different. I'm not even sure how to put a finger on it, but both Burt and I can see it."_

"I understand. That was a big, deep hurt, for the three of them, and things like that change a person - I dare say they've all grown up a little, hmm?

 _"Well, certainly they've done a little growing - they're sixteen year old boys. I sometimes feel like I open my eyes in the morning and can see Finn has grown a quarter of an inch overnight."_ She chuckled to herself. _"But it's more than that. And... it has something to do with Finn's new romantic interest. That's actually why I'm calling. I hear you might know him."_

Tess repressed a smirk. "Oh, you mean  _Carl?_ " She glanced at her boy as she spoke his given name, watching him cringe. So adorable.

 _"Yes... Carl."_ Carole said the name tentatively, as though she weren't quite sure what to make of him. _"He came to the house, to take Finn out for coffee. He's... impressive. And he was very kind to Finn."_

"I'm glad to hear that. Yes, I know him - we met in the Army, Carole, I think Carl was twenty-seven."

 _"Oh - so that was some time ago. Not that I'm making a comment on your age, Tess."_ She was smiling as she said it. _"But Carl... he's not a young man. I suspect he's older than I am."_

Tess laughed. "I'm not that old yet. And you know what they say, honey, a lady never gives her age. It's not so much the years that matter, I think, it's the person wearing the birthday suit."

Carole sighed. _"I understand, and I agree... but you understand, this is my little boy, and... it's just a bit of a challenge to see him so clearly smitten by a gentleman so much older than he is."_

"Would it help to know the age differential?" Tess asked sympathetically, reaching out a small fist and socking Carl's thigh firmly, then laying a finger over her lips.

 _"I'm not sure,"_ Carole admitted. _"But... more information is generally better than less, in my opinion. I suppose I can handle it. Although you may have to let me go pour myself a glass of wine first."_

Tess laughed. "Go pour, honey. And I can cement that urge, here. I'm only six years older than Carl, and you'll have to tell me where and when you were born, love, to tell you the rest."

Carl's face was crimson. "She's talking about  _me_ , isn't she? God. Maybe I should go take a walk in the gardens."

Tess shook her head, and rested a heavy hand on him. "You stay  _put_ ," she hissed at him, covering the phone for a moment.

 _"I'm from Dayton, born in 1972,"_ Carole said. _"I can't imagine he's that much older than I am."_

"Wine in hand?" Tess inquired, and Carole laughed.

_"Yes, I poured myself a glass of pinot gris."_

"And you're sitting down? I don't want to have to ring Burt to tell him you've fainted." Her tone was teasing.

Carole's laughter intensified, and she heard her say to someone else, _"No, honey, I'm fine. It's just a friend."_ Then, more quietly, she added, _"I'm made of sterner stuff than that - trust me."_

"So I thought. Nine years, Carole, between the two of you, give or take the months separating your birthdays."

 _"Oh."_ Carole did sound a little faint, but she took a deep breath and added, _"Thank you. I did ask for it. But... god, Tess, that's a lot of years. What... thirty? For Pete's sake. I'm not sure what that might imply about Carl. Or Finn."_

"Carl and I have discussed this at length." Tess' voice was firm. She socked him again as he moved, taking a breath to protest. "I was dubious about the age differential as well. But Carl," she said, a little iron sneaking into her voice, "is...  _answerable..._ to me."

" _Oh."_  Carole's response was hushed. _"I had - well. I guess I might have suspected, but... Tess, I really need to be clear here. Are you telling me you're responsible for this man?"_

"Let's define responsibility, here. Am I responsible for Carl's career? No. Am I responsible for ensuring that he gets his bills paid on time? No. But am I responsible for the... type of relationship that he's embarking upon with Finn? Yes." Tess kept her voice kind. She patted Carl's thigh warningly, as he flushed even more deeply, hiding his head in the arm of the couch.

 _"Yes - yes. That's what I meant."_ Carole paused. _"I'm... actually familiar with this sort of relationship. It's been a long time, but when I saw Carl and Finn together, I... I remembered."_

"Really." Tess hesitated, glancing at Carl. "It would help if I understood a little more, Carole. I don't mean to pry, but I would like to relieve your mind. But only if you're willing, and comfortable to speak."

_"No, I am. It's been a while since I talked about it, but I don't have any secrets, really. Just a lot of history, there. And... well, Burt isn't aware of most of it. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't tell him, or that I won't tell him. I think he just needs a little time to get used to the idea that I used to do certain things."_

Tess laughed, startling Jesse a little. She smoothed his dark hair fondly. "I understand. And you... you might rely on John a little, here. He's been through this - and I think he might be able to help Burt understand, to some degree. And if you're willing, I'm here, Carole."

Carole sounded surprised. _"That's very thoughtful of you, Tess, and... I might take you up on that. Thank you. I think we need to start with a little discussion of our own, though. I'm pretty certain Burt is aware of a few things going on between Kurt and Puck and Finn, even if so many words haven't been said. He's making progress on his own, at his own pace."_

"It's no secret, Carole. Sam and Dean? Or if I order that properly, Dean and Sam. I know they've stayed with you, and you're... perhaps aware? of some of the intricacies there - but Dean disciplines Sam."

 _"Well."_ Now Carole was thoughtful. _"I had some suspicions about that between Puck and Finn, myself, but... well, Kurt is such a sweet boy. I didn't expect him to be involved in this kind of thing. I don't know all the details - though I'm sure Finn would tell me, if I asked. I've let them keep it to themselves."_

"If you're worried, Carole, ask. And don't just ask Finn - I'm fairly certain Carl has provided you with his number? You call Carl, and you ask outright. You're the mother of a young, sixteen year old boy - to whom you've given wide permissions - and you ask if you need to. Now, I'm not going to be privy to all of the details between the boys," she said casually, watching Carl's face sink into his hands. "And I won't be able to tell you anything that I've been asked to keep confidential. But you've raised an upright, honest boy, there - he takes good care of Noah, and of Kurt. For him to need something of his own? Not an extraordinary thing, it's all right. Carl is experienced, and he's closely invested in this - he's a very honorable person, Carole. It hasn't been easy for him, I think, to find that he has such intense feelings for Finn." She continued to stroke Carl's dark hair, feeling him relax into her a little. She smiled down at him fondly, even though he was barely able to glance at her, flushed darkly with anxiety and embarrassment.

 _"Yes, he does seem to,"_ Carole murmured. _"And Finn seems to feel them right back. I don't know for certain how far things are going to go between them, but... I know Finn, and I could see right away what he was feeling for Carl. I don't want to stand in the way of that kind of intensity, but.. I'm not sure if it's good for him. He's sensitive, and he could easily get hurt."_

Tess was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Carole. I've seen any number of relationships that look unbalanced from the outside, for various reasons - age, gender, experience... I can tell you that I've asked Carl to think through all of the various steps - the levels, if you would, that a relationship like this can go to. I know Finn is sensitive - he wouldn't be so receptive to Noah's needs, or Kurt's needs, if he weren't. And... Carl is a sensitive man, Carole." Her hand rested heavily on Carl's dark head, feeling his shoulders shudder a little, next to her. She sighed. "It's not going to be easy, I'll warrant that. I considered for a long while, personally. And I've - " she hesitated, looking at Carl.

His watery eyes met her, and he nodded a little. She leaned forward, holding the phone away for just a moment to kiss his temple gently.

"I've asked him to talk this over with me," she went on. "To be honest with me, about what he's feeling, what he wants. And equally, he's agreed to listen to me - you may think of me as Finn's advocate, in a way, here. He's young, and inexperienced, and he needs looking after. I'm trying, Carole. The only thing I can't protect is Finn's feelings. And I'm fairly certain that if J- if Carl listens to me, that Finn will be frustrated, maybe even hurt - because I'm cautioning Carl to be slow, and deliberate, and to use his brain."

Carole laughed. _"Well... if there's one thing it's difficult to expect of a man in love, it's that he would use his brain."_

"And if he uses the wrong one, he'll be hearing about it from me, in a manner which would perhaps... deter future lapses in judgement." She ignored the cringe beside her, gently patting at his backside. It was sure to be sore, but it wouldn't hurt him, to remind him that softly. "And I have no hesitation to not only explain to Finn, but to ensure that Finn witnesses."

Carole sounded suspicious. _"Witnesses... Tess, can you be more specific, here?"_

"Carl Jesse is answerable to me, Carole. He has been for a long time. If he errs that badly - I'll put him over my knee, bare, to bring the lesson home. And be certain that I'd be placing a phone call to you at that point as well." Tess ignored the desperate squirm next to her on the couch.

Carole sounded more calm, now, which was a relief to Tess. _"Can I just tell you - I'm gratified to hear that?"_

"Thank you," Tess told the younger woman. "It's no less of a standard, Carole, than he's been held to for half his life, now. There's no shame in that," she said, to both Carl and Carole, really.

 _"Oh, no,"_ Carole assured her, _"I don't see any shame in it at all. It's just been - well, a while. Since... I did anything like that."_

"Carole?" The question was implicit, and very quiet. Her hand moved to soothe Carl's back. She wanted more than anything to draw him to her, to relax him, but she was well aware that she might now need to move to let Carole have complete privacy, for their conversation.

Carole's answering chuckle was rueful. _"Honestly, it's been years since I thought about it, and even before Burt and I got together... I didn't think I'd be bringing any of it back up. But then Finn..."_ She paused, and then resumed, thoughtfully. _"You know, I think I must have noticed something between him and Puck, long ago... but I didn't really see anything clearly happening until Puck made us dinner, back at the beginning of November."_

"And what did you see - that you thought you recognized? And I won't lie, Carole. I'm curious to know why you recognized something."

 _"I'm not even sure."_ There was a pause. _"This was the only the second time I'd seen the three boys, together. I'll be honest; the friendship Puck and Finn has had has always been a little unusual, but I didn't really notice anything until then. Finn was... calmer, and more in touch with his feelings. And the way he was with Kurt... they were both calmer. I think - I think he and Finn, both, were taking care of Puck."_

"That's very typical, Carole, and I dare say you know that?" Tess hinted. She wasn't ready to push, by any means, but she was reaching the end of her patience. Carl was slowly relaxing under her touch, and she'd wiped a tear or two away, not worrying about it.

_"As I said, it's been years, but... yes. I'm familiar with this kind of relationship. I also know how much it can affect a couple... or in this case, three of them. I don't want to stand in the way of them, discovering their own way."_

"Carole. Help me out here. How familiar?" Tess gentled her voice away from the hard tone she'd rather be taking. She felt Carl's curiosity under her hand, but she didn't change the soothing strokes along his back, quieting him.

Carole's response came after a long pause. _"About the time that Finn was born, I met someone who introduced me to the scene. She... for me, it was mostly social, recreational, but I could see that it was significant to her. I knew - I know it can make a big difference between two people."_ She took a deep breath. _"I haven't had that kind of relationship... in a long time."_

"Carole?"

Her voice was low. _"I'm not really certain how Burt would take it. It hasn't come up. But now that it's clear that Finn is doing something of that sort, I suspect it's going to have to."_

"Sweetheart," Tess said. "Yes." She shook her head at Carl, who was looking at her with a half curious, half desperate gaze.

 _"It's possible it won't be a problem, after all. Burt's been remarkably willing to deal openly with the three boys together."_ Carole laughed again. _"Do you know, that first night we met, I didn't think I was going to like him. He sure changed my tune quickly enough."_

Tess laughed in return. "I don't think he'll feel any differently about your history, Carole. He might feel differently about you asking him to participate - but that's up to you, to judge."  _No,_  she shook her head at Carl, and then  _later,_ she mouthed, feeling him squirm, but patting him comfortingly.

_"I know. I don't think I'll ever really be able to let that history go, but... starting again in a relationship at all, after so many years, Tess... we're starting again, this enormous conglomerate family of ours. It's better than anything I've had in years. I don't want to risk it."_

"That's what makes honesty so important," Tess told her softly. "The lack of honesty, that's the true risk."

 _"Of course,"_ said Carole, _"you're right. I'm just going to have to figure out how to go about it. We have lots of time."_

"Honey... never assume you have time. You may need to approach it slowly and gently, but make a start."

Tess could hear Finn's voice in the background. _"Hey, Mom; we're heading to bed now."_

"Oh my, don't turn that one down, Carole. I don't remember the last time I had a boy suggest that he was going to go up to bed on time." She patted Carl's thigh meaningfully, watching him hide his face again.

 _"Finn's a good boy,"_ Carole said, with a smile. _"I've always known that. You have a good night. I'll talk to you again soon. Merry Christmas, to you and - everyone."_

"Thank you. I'll pass that along. Enjoy the time with your boys, and with Burt." Tess disconnected the call, and held up a hand to Carl, who had launched himself upright.

" _Tess,_ " he exclaimed, aghast. "Is she - she's not going to ask Burt to discipline her?"

She sighed. "That's what comes of only hearing one end of the conversation, love.  _No._  And mind I don't have her permission to speak to you about what she's shared with me - shush. I think it's better that the two of you have those conversations - oh, stop it. She's been wonderful, and very permissive thus far, young man. Keep an open line of communication with her. The only thing that I will say to you is that apparently she understands far more than either of us imagined. Perhaps that will make it easier."

Carl contemplated that dubiously. "Maybe. I'll try, though, I promise."

"That's my good boy," she praised. "And thank you for not making a peep. Now, do we need to discuss this, or shall we go back to relaxing?"

"I'll take the second option."

"Then come here, you." Tess pulled him close to her, and kissed him gently and matter of factly. "I do love you, you silly molecule."

He chuckled at that, and got his arms around her, leaning back with her, smiling as she shifted, and pulled her feet up on the couch, tucking them flat against his shins, the way she always had. That more than anything else let him pick up the remote and start the movie again, her dark head resting on his shoulder.

* * *

**Sunday, January 3, 2010**

Breakfast was Jesse's favorite meal of the day. If he did it early enough, he could get eating over with and not think about food for a while. He could eat a lot of carbs and not get looked at funny, because when you danced as hard as he did, you needed a  _lot_  of fuel. And it was pretty much the only time he ever got to see his dad anymore, which, as far as he was concerned, was just the way things were. He and his parents all expected Jesse to grow up and leave Ohio, and now senior year was coming to an end. He wouldn't be sticking around much longer. He'd learned that his uncle and aunt were really his birth parents when he was in middle school, and since then, his dad had made an extra effort to spend time with him while they were still living in the same state. And, well, he saw his mom every day at school. Sometimes he wished for a little  _less_  time with her, to tell the truth.

Their favorite place to meet for breakfast was the Coney Island in Mansfield, the one on Fourth Street near Martini's. It was just halfway between Lima and Akron, so neither of them had to drive more than an hour and a half to get there. They met every couple weeks to talk, and his dad gave him another check for school because really, when your adoptive parents ran a daycare center and your birth dad was a lawyer, there wasn't much contest about who was going to pay for private school. He always threw in a little extra money, too, which Jesse appreciated; voice lessons didn't come cheap.

His dad lit up in a smile as Jesse sat down at the table and set the fat envelope in front of him. "UCLA?" he said, picking it up. "They liked your audition tape?"

"If a full ride is any indication," Jesse said, trying to sound cool about it and totally failing. "Looks like talent counts to them more than perfect grades in math."

"I told you that C in geometry wasn't really going to hurt you." His dad ran a hand through his blond hair, and handed Jesse a menu. "Come on; we'd better order before the breakfast rush starts."

Jesse watched his dad over the top of the specials list. Sometimes Jesse really resented how freaking gorgeous he was - and he knew what he was talking about. Not that he thought of his dad that way, but he had eyes, and they would have had to have been completely nonfunctional for him not to notice. Jesse knew  _he_  was cute, in a Harry Potter teddy bear kind of way, but there was no way he could match his dad. There was too much of his mom in him.

"You're going to take it, aren't you?" His dad took a sip of his coffee and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I mean, you'd have to be a complete idiot not to."

"Yeah, I'm going to take it."

His dad nodded soberly. "I'm sure you'll come home for holidays. Who knows; maybe you'll meet a nice guy and I can fly you both out here for Thanksgiving..."

"Whatever, dad." He grinned good-naturedly at the suggestion. "I think you're going to be way too busy with  _your_  new guy to notice much about me for a while."

It was pretty easy to pick up his dad's not-so-subtle cues, too, and his grin widened as his dad's face turned an interesting shade of scarlet. "Who told you?" he demanded. "It wasn't your mom, was it, because I didn't say - she  _doesn't -"_

"Not her. Nobody, in fact; I just guessed. You're practically displaying it in LED letters on your chest.  _I'm in love._ " He laughed at his dad's disgruntled expression. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you. When do I get to meet him?"

"He's in Iowa," his dad said, but then the waitress was there to take their order, and they had to pause in their conversation for a moment. Neither of them were particularly closeted, but they knew enough to be careful. As soon as Jesse had figured out he was gay, his dad had explained how things were in small-town Ohio.  _Your personal life is just that: personal. Don't air your dirty laundry; no sex or fighting with your lovers in public. And sometimes, it helps to have a little camouflage._  His dad's high-powered lawyer persona was handy for that. Jesse relied on his friends at school to provide his cover most of the time; he had plenty of female performer friends in Vocal Adrenaline who went with him to prom and on the occasional date. He knew he was lucky to have not two, but  _four_ understanding parents, none of whom judged him or expected him to be something he wasn't. Soon he'd be able to escape the confines of the midwest. He felt a shiver of excitement at the prospect.

"Iowa, huh? Long drive." He watched his dad nod glumly. "And even more middle of nowhere than here. I'd think you'd be sick of midwest sensibilities by now."

"I think when you get older it doesn't matter so much," said his dad. He smiled at the waitress as she set his omelette in front of him, and she visibly melted a little. When she walked away, his dad leaned in. "He's a chef, and he works for a restaurant down there, in a club."

"That kind of club, huh?" Jesse murmured, sampling his French toast before buttering it. He knew well enough what his dad did in his free time, and about his consulting business. "Well, at least he understands that part of you. You're not going to try to hook up with somebody like Mom again, are you?"

His dad snickered. "What, you mean somebody vanilla? Or somebody female? Either way, not really my cup of tea."

Jesse smirked. Whatever had made his dad think he was straight enough to marry his mom to begin with, honestly, he had no idea. But then, they'd grown up in a tiny town, with hardly any awareness of what being gay even meant, and they'd both been juniors in high school when they had Jesse. They probably hadn't had any idea what they were doing. "Glad to hear you know it now, at least."

The shadow that fell over his dad's face didn't make any sense, but it was enough for him to add, "I mean, lucky for me you didn't know back then, because I probably wouldn't be around otherwise, huh?"

"Something like that," his dad agreed. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Jesse reached over and took a bite of his dad's omelette, and his dad appropriated some French toast in exchange.

"How's VA coming along?" his dad asked. "You guys looking at another national title this year?"

"Maybe." Jesse shrugged.

His dad leaned back in his chair and regarded him quizzically. "Don't tell me you're getting senioritis already. It's not even spring yet. You've got plenty of time left to enjoy what you've got here, Jesse. Trust me, I would have given my right arm to have these kind of opportunities in high school. Me and your mom, we were some pretty big fish in our small pond."

Jesse had heard that story a million times, but he just nodded. "I do feel lucky, Dad. It's not that." He hesitated, thinking of what she'd said to him, just the other day:  _Don't mention this to anyone. Not your teachers, not your coaches, not your dad._  "I'm having some trouble in VA. Chandra, Andrea - they're giving me a hard time. We've got a new choreographer, and I can tell he's going to be good, but... it's tough to concentrate." He tried to make his sigh appropriately dejected. "I don't know. Maybe I'm overreacting."

"Maybe," his dad said. "Maybe not. You could talk to your mom. I'm sure she'd be okay with it if you needed a break."

Jesse almost smiled at that. "You're probably right. I'll try that."

They agreed to meet again in two weeks. He gave his dad a hug, and accepted the check he handed him. "Thanks," he added. "For all of it."

"You know you can always call me, if you need anything," his dad said, clasping his shoulder. "I'm only three hours away. We stuck around in Ohio so you'd have the kind of support you need. Don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks," he said again. "I'll let you know how my first week goes back at school."

Once he made sure his dad got back on the highway and was at least ten minutes ahead of him in the direction of Lima, he followed, carefully maintaining the speed limit so as not to catch up to him. He called his mom right away.

"You're on your way?" she asked, without preamble. "You know where to find her?"

"Hi, Jesse, " he sing-songed. "How was your breakfast, Jesse? Did you and your dad talk about anything interesting, Jesse? Like, maybe, the fact that said dad is in ridiculous love with somebody new?"

"Really." Her voice was flat. "Great. That's the last thing he needs."

"You told me you don't believe in love anyway."

"I don't. But he doesn't need that kind of distraction. He's a big enough mess without adding another person to the mix."

Jesse personally thought his mom was a pretty big mess herself, but she wouldn't have appreciated hearing that from him. "You're not telling me to sabotage this relationship, too, are you? Because I honestly don't think I'm up for two at one time. Especially not when one of them is a relative."

"What, are you getting cold feet? Having second thoughts?"

He considered the highway, stretching out before him, and sighed to himself. "No," he said. "No second thoughts. Just let me know what you need. You know I'll come through."

"I can always count on you, Jesse." Her tone was brisk, which was as close to loving as she got. "I'll see you at school on Monday."

He found a comfortable pace and set the cruise control to follow the car ahead of him. "Sure, Shelby. I'll let you know how things go with Rachel. Don't worry about a thing. I've got it taken care of."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby is late on his first day at his new job and meets a cute guy at Starbucks. Wade is worried about being one of the only freshmen in Vocal Adrenaline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to knittycat99 for writing Toby and Wade.

Toby reached up through layers of sleep, struggling to figure out where that godawful beeping, and buzzing, and - was that  _disco?_  - was all coming from. He sat upright in bed, ran a hand through his hair, and focused.

Okay. The beeping was his alarm clock. He reached over and slapped at it until it quieted, and then he focused on buzzing and the music. Right. Phone. Will's silly ringtone that he'd programmed in on the drive back to Ohio. And it wasn't disco, it was that Journey song he liked so much.

He scrambled for the phone before it could begin another round of the chorus. "Will." His words were clipped.

"I hope I didn't get you out of the shower," Will said softly.

"No, darlin'. You woke me, though." Toby blinked sleepily at the still-unfamiliar confines of his new bedroom. The shadows were different here. He felt disoriented.

"Woke you? Toby, you should be ready to leave for school soon." Will sounded scandalized. "You can't be late you first day."

Toby peered at his clock. 8:21. " _Shit."_

"What time do you need to be there?" Toby could feel Will trying to calm him over the phone.

"I'm meeting with Shelby at 9.  _Shit_." He hauled himself out of bed and started rummaging in the still-unpacked boxes for something to wear. He always had jazz pants and a tank top in his dance bag, so he grabbed the least wrinkled khakis he could find and the deep green sweater Will had given him for Christmas.

"Gotta go, darlin'."

"I know, Toby. Call me after school? Let me know how your first day went."

"As long as you don't expect me to spill secrets, we'll be fine," he teased, grinning even though Will couldn't see him.

"Love you," Will said softly.

"Love you, too, baby."

Ten minutes later, Toby pulled into the parking lot at the Starbucks around the corner from his house, tires squealing, and let out a stream of curses. The drive-though line snaked all the way around the building, but the parking lot was empty. He almost kept on driving, but he  _really_  needed the caffeine, so he lurched into a parking spot, threw the car into park, and sprinted across the parking lot into the warmth of the shop.

"Morning," the kid behind the counter called out, and Toby skidded to a stop.

Because the boy - no,  _young man_ , because he had to be college aged at least - was a dead ringer for Colin.

"Hey," he said, taken aback and not sure what to do with the way his heart had stopped. Colin was his past, Will was his future, and this barista was not part of any plan at all.

"What can I get for you?" The young man looked him over, and his smile widened. "No, wait. Let me guess. Mmmmm..." He cocked his head to one side and put a finger on his chin. "Something sweet."

"Sweet. Yes." Toby rubbed at his eyes, and stepped closer to the counter.

"Extra shot for a rough morning?" The guy hovered at the stacks of cups, uncapped Sharpie in his hand.

"Please. Venti nonfat sugar free caramel macchiato." Toby rattled off his usual order without blinking.

"Coming right up." The man's hands moved swiftly to fulfill his order. He eyed Toby's restless legs. "In a hurry?"

"First day at a new job, and I overslept my damn alarm."

He nodded sympathetically. "Well, I'll get you out of here as fast as I can, then."

"That'd be great," Toby replied, trying not to stare at the clock on the wall. The man turned away to steam his milk, but he kept looking over his shoulder and seemed to be biting back words. Eventually Toby raised an eyebrow and sighed. "See somethin' you don't like?"

The kid startled, sloshing steamed milk over his fingers. " _Son of a bitch!"_  he exclaimed, grabbing a rag and dabbing at his hand. "Not you," he added, looking up at Toby. "I was just wondering what brought you to this part of Ohio. I mean," he said, carefully filling Toby's cup with milk, "it's not always very welcoming here, for, um."

"Fags?" Toby couldn't help it, he was tired and he just wanted his damn coffee, and he really needed to be dancing first thing instead of sitting in a meeting with Shelby. He felt a little badly, though, when the kid flinched. Toby wasn't sure if it was from the word or from his tone. He wondered why he cared.

"If you prefer, fine, but I  _really_  hate that word." The kid held up a canister of whipped cream in a silent question, and Toby shook his head. "I heard it enough, growing up around here. And I couldn't give two hoots about reclaiming it or  _whatever_." He drizzled some caramel syrup over the top of Toby's drink, put a lid on top and slid it into a cardboard sleeve. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Toby sighed. "Sorry about that. I've been judged plenty, too. You work mornings, uh...?"

"Jon," the kid replied as he rinsed the milk pitcher. "Yeah, mornings."

"Hi, Jon. I'm Toby. And I'll definitely be back. Nice to come to someplace and have family makin' my coffee."

Jon's answering smile was friendly enough, but all Toby could see was Colin, and the memories of their last moments together weren't pleasant ones. He regretted not seeing him at least once more before leaving Denver to say goodbye, maybe to mend some fences he'd broken in the green room with Will on his arm. Colin might not be his future, but he wasn't a bad guy, and four years of friendship and three nights a week together counted for something.

He called Will once more from the car. "I'm getting ready for my first class, Toby," he said briskly.

"Just wanted to thank you for gettin' me up and goin' this morning." He hesitated, then added, "The young fella givin' me coffee at the Starbucks was family."

"Family?" Will sounded blank. Toby sighed.

"He was gay, Will. Gay as you or me." He knew it was a mistake the moment the words left his lips, but there it was: their age-old argument. Of course Will wouldn't know that  _family_  was code for  _gay,_ because no matter what the engagement ring on Toby's finger meant, Will  _wasn't gay._

Will's answering sigh was tense. "Toby, I can't deal with this right now. Can I call you at lunch?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"I really do want to hear about your first day." His voice softened. "You're coming up on Friday after work, right?"

Toby wasn't going to argue questions of geography, but the snarky, sleep-deprived voice inside him said  _it's not_ _up_ _, it's_ _over_ _, Will, an hour to the west, and why aren't you coming_ _over_ _to my house instead?_  Instead, he said, "I sure am, darlin'. Best thing about bein' here."

* * *

Wade stuffed his dance bag into his locker and leaned against the door to shove it closed. Maria waited while he adjusted his scarf - the sweet purple silk one he'd bought in Chicago on his Christmas visit to his aunt and uncle - and then tucked one arm into his and practically dragged him up the hall to homeroom.

"It's going to be fine," she chattered over the noise of the other kids. Even though they were only freshman, the crowds parted for them, and Wade was pretty pleased that he'd let Maria talk him into trying out for Vocal Adrenaline. Otherwise, he knew he'd be one of the kids getting egged, or worse. "I don't know why you're so afraid of Mr. Grey. You seemed to like him enough, when he ran our rehearsal that day."

"I know." Wade tried to tone down the sashay in his walk, but it felt weird. "It's just-  _anyone_  can be nice when they want something. But how can we trust that he's really going to be good to us?"

She shrugged, her dark curls moving with her. "I guess we just have to believe that Ms. Corcoran knows what's best. I think he'll be a good teacher. I mean, he helped us dance better."

"Helped my chubby ass lift you, you mean." Wade  _hated_  his baby fat. His mother kept telling him he'd hit his growth spurt and he'd grow out of it, but it made him feel clumsy and not quite comfortable in his own body.

Or that could have been the constantly-there idea of his  _other_  self that was always in his head. But he  _definitely_  wasn't ready to even think about  _her._  So.

Maria smacked his arm with her English notebook. "Don't talk about yourself that way. Mr. Grey helped your confidence by showing us the  _right_  way to do things. Not like Dakota, who just yelled all the time.  _Anything_  is better than that, right?"

Wade shrugged and pushed past two cheerleaders who were blocking the door to homeroom. "I guess. I mean, it can't be  _worse_  than that."

"Now you've jinxed us," Maria sighed. "Don't know know not to say stuff like that? Now Mr. Grey is going to turn out to be a vampire or a grownup Jesse St. James, or something."

Wade just huffed and slid into his chair. "I don't want to think about Jesse today. I have enough on my mind with Mr. Grey."

Maria just rolled her eyes. "Relax, will you? It's just show choir."

"In what universe is Vocal Adrenaline  _just_  anything?" Wade fingered the edge of his scarf. "We're a  _part_  of something. I can't- I mean-  _yeah._  Okay. It's show choir. But . . ." Wade let his mind wander for a minute, let  _Unique_  enjoy the sensation of the silk of his scarf.  _She_  sighed, happy _,_  and Wade had to close his eyes to get back to himself. "I think maybe, I'd be lost without it. I can't lose it because I'm the worst dancer in the group."

"Then tell Mr. Grey that. I'm sure he'd help you."

"Yeah," Wade said, slumping against the back of his chair as the bell rang. Oh, well. No sense in worrying now.

* * *

The new dance instructor rushed into the east studio just as the first bell was ringing.  _Bad start,_  Jesse thought, but he wouldn't say anything, and neither did the other eight seniors waiting for him to arrive. They just watched him set down his coffee against the wall, strip off his coat, and take a deep breath.

"I won't lie to you," he said, running a hand through his hair and laughing lightly. "I think all of y'all are masochists for wanting to take a studio class at this ungodly hour. But, then, I'm a little bit of one myself, for bein' here at all. C'mon, let's stretch."

They made a loose ring around him and found places along the barre or on the wooden floor. The time of day didn't seem to affect his flexibility any, at least, and it was quiet in the room as heads touched knees, hands reached for toes and joints crackled.

"What's a masochist?" Hayden whispered to Jesse, and he shrugged.

"Um... Mr...?" said Giselle.

He rolled his shoulders and grimaced. "Grey. Toby Grey. Y'all call your teachers by their first names, or what?"

"Mostly," Giselle said, nodding. "At least in the theater arts department. But that's up to you."

"Well, I've been Mr. Grey for the past decade. We'll start with that." He nodded back to Giselle. "Why don't y'all introduce yourselves and we'll get to know each other, since we're going to be breaking our fasts together for the rest of the semester?"

Giselle rolled with Mr. Grey's request, but some of the other students seemed thrown by it, and there wasn't a lot of talking to be had. He sighed impatiently as they made it around the circle with bare first names spoken.

"No. That won't do. C'mon, you've all seen A Chorus Line, haven't you?" They all nodded. "Well, Zach forced them all to talk for a reason. I can't help you be better dancers unless you open up to me. Unless -" He paused. "This _is_ a dance class, right? I mean, I'm not supposed to be teaching you American history or underwater basketweaving or something?"

They all giggled at that. Mr. Grey grinned back. Jesse had to give him points for charisma, even if he wasn't setting a particularly good example by being late on his first day. He raised his hand.

"Yeah - Jesse, right?"

"That's right. It's Advanced Dance. We're all experienced dancers, and we're all in Vocal Adrenaline. This is the group that works up the routines ahead of time; we bring the routines with us to VA in the afternoon."

Mr. Grey nodded thoughtfully, his chin resting on the soles of his feet. "So y'all have been dancing together for a while, huh?"

"If you don't get into VA when you're a freshman or sophomore, you don't usually get in at all," Chandra said. "And Akron's not such a big place. We've all been taking the same classes with most of the same instructors since we were kids."

"Well, y'all might remember from my audition that I taught in Denver, at the School for the Arts. Those kids came to school from all over Colorado, starting at fourteen, desperate to have somebody tell them they were special. That what they were good at was important." He scanned the crowd. "I take it y'all would understand that point of view?"

Giselle tossed her hair. "We already  _know_  we're important," she said. But Hayden and Alice were nodding.

"I sometimes get sh- uh, crap from my cousins and the lacrosse team about being a dancer," Hayden said. "I mean, yeah, VA's cool, but not everybody's in it for the dancing." He seemed to feel everybody's eyes on him, and he looked at the floor. "I like it, okay?"

"Yeah," Mr. Grey said gently. "It is okay. It's okay to have that dream, to want to live it. I hope, if nothin' else, you can all take that away from this class." He beckoned them to their feet. "Now, c'mon. I won't make you talk anymore. Why don't you show me what you can do."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn is invited over to Carl's on a school night and deals with his internal conflict about their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for m/m sex, daddy/boy kink, D/s and discipline. If you aren't quite sold on Carl and Finn, or if you're a first time reader and you're looking at me like I have two heads, give this chapter a try. I know the age difference is a bit of a squick for some of you, but I've had relationships with people twice my age, and it can be powerfully transformative if everyone is aware and thoughtful about it. And dammit, I love Carl/Finn. So there.
> 
> Oh, and I can't resist sharing, for those of you who don't watch American television: [Carl gets topped by yogurt!](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AzJv8TagXvo)
> 
> Enjoy!  
> -amy

Finn dug out his phone and held it under the desk while Kurt watched him with curiosity. It was the end of American history, and their substitute hadn't said anything about kids not using their cell phones, so Finn decided it was a reasonable risk to read the text that had come in. He felt the tension in his gut as he did so, because only one person texted him during the day.

_1 text - Carl Howell, DDS  
_ _2:05pm - Come to the house after school. If you can't get a ride, call me when you're done with Glee and I'll come pick you up._

Finn hadn't expected to be invited over to Carl's at all during the week, especially not the first few weeks back to school. In fact, the rules, as Carl himself had set them down, were that Finn could only come over after he was done with his homework, and only on a day when he didn't have school the next day. Saturdays was Irene's coffeehouse in Columbus. On Wednesdays, they got together at Finn's, or a neutral location outside of town, which Carl inevitably chose. Finn didn't mind; he knew Carl needed to be careful with this relationship. It could really hurt his career if people found out he was doing stuff with a boy thirty years his junior.

_Doing stuff._ As much as they were  _doing_  anything at all. Finn understood that he'd given Carl the reins, to go as slow as he deemed appropriate, but it had been over a week since they'd done anything more than a goodnight kiss. He sighed, shifting his long legs under the desk.  _Not that I'm not getting plenty of "anything more" from my boyfriends._ But he was a little frustrated - okay, more than a  _little_  frustrated - by the prospect of endless chaste evenings together.

And he had to admit the tiny, niggling fear that was following him: the fear that wondered if maybe Carl wasn't  _actually_  interested in him that way anyway. Maybe Finn had made it all up. Or maybe Carl had changed his mind, and decided Finn was too young or gave bad blowjobs or something. And hell, if it didn't just make him feel like crying to think that maybe he'd never get a chance to get any better at them, because he'd only had one shot at it so far and he  _knew_  he could improve... given the chance to practice. And now he was all turned on right before Glee, thinking about giving Carl a blowjob.  _Great._

Kurt beckoned under the desk with one hand, and Finn passed the phone across Brittany's legs. He took one look at the screen and grimaced.

"You really have to fix his name in your phone, Finn," he said in an undertone. "What happens if Mr. Wright catches you texting and reads it out loud in class? He wouldn't be very happy with you."

Finn knew it was true, but every time he went to change the settings in his phone for Carl's contact information, he just couldn't do it. Seeing Carl's name appear on the tiny screen gave him too much of a thrill. "Nobody knows who he is anyway," he muttered.

"They might," Kurt scolded, and Finn had nothing to say, of course, because he knew Kurt was right.  _Since when do you give me orders, Kurt?_  he wanted to retort, but he didn't want to start something in the middle of history class. All he could do was send a quick affirmative return text,  _I can get a ride,_  and put his phone away as quickly as he could, before it got confiscated.

The rest of history, and the first half of Glee, were spent in a cloudy miasma of fantasies about exactly what might be about to happen at Carl's after school. It wasn't until halfway through practice that he realized Rachel had been trying to get his attention for several minutes. She was looking more annoyed than anything else.

"Uh," he said, glancing at Mr. Schue, who was going on about songs with the word  _hello_  in them. "Sorry. What was that?"

"Basketball practice," she stage-whispered. "Tomorrow. I'll be there to cheer you on?"

He scratched his head. "Okay?"

Basketball practice hadn't gone at all well that week. He'd been far too distracted by thoughts of Carl to care much about that, or class, for that matter. In addition, Finn wasn't quite sure what to do with Rachel's desire to follow him around like a puppy. It kind of reminded him of... well, if they had been doing anything together, it might have been a little like... he blinked.  _No. Rachel doesn't do... that. Does she?_

Kurt ended up having a study date with Mercedes after Glee, so Puck gave him a ride to Carl's. The truck was making all kinds of weird noises, but it made it across town without any problem.

"You want me to come back and get you after dinner?" Puck asked, with a hand on Finn's knee.

"I'm not even sure why I'm here, yet," Finn admitted. "I'll call you, though, or Kurt, once I know. Can you let my mom know I'll be eating over here?"

"It's totally unfair that you get a boyfriend who has a _slave,"_  Puck grumbled, popping the clutch into reverse, but he kissed him goodbye and waved amicably enough as Finn climbed down from the cab. Finn knew Puck wasn't really jealous.

_It_ was _actually pretty cool,_  he thought, as Angela answered the doorbell. She smiled at him, opening the door wide.

"Good afternoon, Finn," she said, accepting his coat. "Will you be staying for dinner?"

"Yeah, I think I will," he said, smiling at her. Not for the first time, Finn wondered what Angela was like when she wasn't following orders at Dr. Howell's work or home.  _She has to have a life of her own,_  he thought.  _Doesn't she?_

Finn sat at the kitchen counter munching on crackers and cheese until Carl appeared in the doorway. "Finn."

He swallowed, trying to clear his mouth, but even so, he had to wait several long, awkward seconds before he was able to respond to Carl's greeting. It didn't help that Carl was wearing Finn's favorite shirt, the black one with the covered buttons. Or that he'd already taken off his tie, and Finn could see a perfect triangle of tanned chest peeking around the unbuttoned collar. There was no reason for Finn to feel faint because of a stupid triangle of skin, but he couldn't deny that he did.

"Sir," he said finally, and smiled tentatively. Carl's face was nonreactive, but he nodded in response.

He pulled a stool up to Finn at the kitchen counter and sat across from him. "How was school today?"

"Fine," he said.

Carl cocked his head to one side, leaning on a casual elbow. "I heard you didn't do so well on your pop quiz in Spanish on Monday."

"Uh." Finn sat up a little straighter. He couldn't actually ask  _how_  Carl knew this, but he wondered who had squealed. It probably wasn't Kurt, but it might have been Puck. Carl wasn't Topping him, but Puck was pretty much defenseless around Carl anyway. "No, sir. I mean... I could have done better, sir."

"How bad is bad?" Carl didn't look sympathetic or judgmental. He was just waiting for Finn to respond.

Finn stared at Carl's shoes. They were black and shiny and looked expensive. "Finn," Carl snapped, and Finn's eyes shot up to his. "Do you have an answer?"

"I... I'm not sure, sir."' Finn tried to tear his eyes away again, but there was no way Carl would let Finn weasel out of telling him this. He never did hesitate if he thought Finn needed it, no matter what he had to make him do.  _Problem is, there's not much I don't want to do for him. To him. God._ He squirmed where he sat.

"Finn," Carl said, his warning tone heralding danger.

"Forty percent, sir," Finn replied hurriedly. He sighed at Carl's expression. "I know, sir, but... it was only a quiz, and... it's just  _Spanish._ "

Carl's eyebrow wasn't any less dangerous than his tone. It was just quieter. "Do you think Mr. Schuester would agree with you on that? Maybe I need to give him a call?"

"What?" Finn blurted. "No! You can't do that."

Now Carl's other eyebrow went up. He looked genuinely surprised. "I can't?"

"No!" He felt a dim frisson of panic pass over him. "I mean - I'll take care of it, sir."

"Seems like you've had an opportunity to do that already." The eyebrow wasn't going anywhere. "You need a reminder."

"Oh... no." This last came out in an embarrassing squeak. He cleared his throat and took a drink of water in an effort to speak normally.

"Oh, yes," Carl drawled. He hopped down from his chair. "Follow me."

Finn had only been to Carl's house a few times, but by now he knew the way things were laid out. Kitchen, lounge, second floor center. West wing held the personal rooms, media room, guest room; east wing were the playrooms. They were definitely going to to the west wing. Carl led them past the media room and the guest room. He gulped.  _New territory. Don't panic. It's fine. He's going to take care of everything._

"Did you ask permission to stay for dinner?" Carl's voice floated back down the hall.

"No, sir. But I'm sure my mom would -"

"Consider that an automatic extra five, Finn." He turned, facing him in the doorway, his hazel eyes serious. Finn peeked into the room out of the corner of his eye. He could spy a chair, a desk, and the corner of a cream-colored comforter on a bed, but Carl redirected his attention quickly with a swat to his behind through his jeans. "You ask. Never assume. Understood?"

"Yes sir," he said. Carl's chin sported an evening's worth of stubble. He almost always shaved it before they got together, and Finn couldn't help but wonder what it might feel like under his fingers. Neither Puck nor Kurt had much in the way of facial hair.

"You're not going to take anything for granted here, Finn. Your mother deserves - are you even  _listening?"_  This last was accompanied by another swat, harder, in exactly the same location.

"Jesus, Carl," Finn said, wincing. "Yeah, I'm  _listening."_

Carl's face hardened. "Yeah. I can tell. About as well as you've been  _listening_  in class since you got back from vacation. You're going away to California soon, and there's no way you're going to be done with everything you need to take care of, if this is the kind of attention you give to your work." He propped both hands on his hips, regarding Finn for a long moment. Then he jerked his head at the door. "Jeans off, and shorts. On my bed. Now."

Finn moved far faster than he had this week in basketball practice.  _Maybe that's what I need,_  he thought, as he ditched his jeans on the side of the bed.  _Carl, in the audience, glaring at me. Or maybe I just need to practice with no pants on?_

The bed was king-sized, with an impressive wooden headboard, complete with rings, hooks and chains. Just looking at them made Finn feel faint, and more than a little bit turned on. He was embarrassed that this fact would become immediately apparent once he took off his shorts.

"What does  _now_  mean to you, boy?" Carl barked, and Finn abandoned embarrassment along with his underwear. He crawled onto the bed and waited, his heart pounding, eyes averted. There was a thick paperback book on the table by the bed, and a half-full glass of water, and a bottle of lube. Finn quivered, his hands not straying to his own erection, now fully visible.

Carl paid it no mind. "Who's in charge here, Finn?"

"You are, sir," he said promptly, and he was pleased to hear his voice come out steady. The comforter was soft and looked shiny. If he'd been a little more desperate, he might have ground against it with his hips, but he wasn't going to do anything without Carl's permission.

"That's right." Carl's hand rested firmly on Finn's back, pressing through his shirt. He felt his cock twitch. "And you haven't been holding up your end of the bargain. You're going to work for your grades."

"I just don't see why I should bother," he sighed. Carl's own hand paused as it slid down Finn's spine toward his bare behind.  _He doesn't even have to touch me to make me hard,_  he thought, and his hips tipped forward, once, thrusting into the air. There was a sharp retort, and a blooming pain on the sensitive skin between his thigh and his leg. He yelped.

"Finn, it doesn't  _matter why._  You agreed to this, and you need to learn to obey. We can't do  _anything else_  until you can follow through with this one simple order: do what I say." Carl slapped the other cheek harder, putting the burn into it. "So now... we're going to practice."

"Practice?" he echoed. He wondered what the  _anything else_  might be, and how long he would need to put up with Carl's games in order to get to them. Maybe if he could play them well enough, Carl would let him try out those skills he wanted to improve at... He thrust again, wishing desperately for some kind of friction.

" _Practice,_ boy." His word was accompanied by two more smacks. He could feel the skin of his behind starting to burn.  _"You're_ thinking this might involve someone else? You're sorely mistaken. It's just you. I'm going to go finish some paperwork.  _You're_  going to stay here on this bed until I tell you otherwise." Carl deposited Finn's backpack next to him without any more ceremony. "Get your Spanish book out."

Finn couldn't help but get a jibe in before Carl abandoned him. "I'm going to study Spanish with no pants on?"

"That's right, Finn," Carl purred. "For starters. Do I need to make you take off your shirt as well?"

Finn knew very well what Carl thought was going on. Puck had done it more than once, and Kurt. They acted out, and their Top -  _himself,_ Finn - would follow up with a concise, sharp consequence. But  _he_  wasn't doing that, was he? No, he wasn't about to do something bad, just to get attention from his Top. He would simply follow Carl's rules, and do what he had to do, and pretty soon it would be over. He could do this. He gritted his teeth. "No, sir."

"Set the book over there. You have a pen? Pencil?" Carl's eyes moved dispassionately over Finn's rumpled notebook. "Set that over there as well. On your knees, now."

Finn felt the words bend him over, like a blow to his kidneys, and he couldn't help it. He moaned. He heard Carl's breath catch, just for a second, before he touched Finn's backside with his palm, but his voice was cool and clear.

"Your homework matters, Finn. Your grades matter. I won't stand for sloppiness, laziness or insubordination."

"Yes, sir," Finn said, his attention riveted on the sensation of Carl touching his back, giving him pressure right -  _there -_ he gasped again, and thrust forward, clutching at the bedspread.

Carl leaned in, bringing his mouth right up against Finn's ear, so close that his lips were tickling the sensitive flesh. Finn heard himself making incoherent noises, some of which could have been words, but were far too lost in desperate lust for him to know for sure.

"You think you're going to get anything else tonight, Finn?" he whispered.

"S-sorry, sir?" The squeak was back, on overdrive. Finn hated it, but he hated more that Carl's hands were scant inches from his cock and they weren't  _touching him._ Maybe if he adjusted a little more that way... but Carl was just hovering there beside his ear, his breath igniting all new sensations.

"You trust me to take care of you, don't you?" Carl's hand drifted between his legs, to the line of skin that stretched from the base of his balls to the tip of his cock, and drew one single fingertip along it.

"Yes," he moaned, arching his back, "god, sir, yes."

"Good." The fingertip vanished, and Carl's hand came down on Finn's backside in a series of firm, solid blows. Finn knew it wasn't meant to be pleasurable, but he whimpered all the same, feeling the connection inside him, where everything waited for someone to touch him.  _Touch me,_ he begged inside his head.  _Touch me, just touch me._ And every touch he got felt so fucking  _good._

"Is there something you want?" The swats intensified; Finn was starting to get to know Carl's style, to start light and build, so they never really felt unbearable, but by the end he was giving him a pretty good wallop, one his body would feel the next day.

"I... I want..."

_"Dilo en español,_ Finn. _¿Qué quieres?"_

Finn glanced, startled, at his closed Spanish book, wondering if he could quickly look something up.  _What was that verb?_  " _Toque..._ no, uh... _tócame._ Please. _Por favor, s- señor!"_

_"¿No se merece eso, Finn?"_ Carl's accent was better than Mr. Schue's. He smacked the center of Finn's buttocks, putting pressure on the space between his cheeks, and Finn shuddered. _"¿Era un buen chico?"_

_"V-voy a ser un buen chico,"_ he promised.  _A very good boy._

_"Bueno. Ahora haga su tarea."_ One final swat, and he backed away from the bed, pointing at the homework with an imperious finger while his eyebrow punctuated his command.

_"Si, señor,"_ Finn muttered. He waited until Carl was out of the room before sitting up gingerly and sighing in frustration. His cock was hard and aching, his rear end tender, and his mind whirling with compelling images -  _none_  of which related to Spanish in any way. He opened his textbook and stared blankly at the page.  _How the hell am I supposed to concentrate like this?_

He viciously stabbed his pencil into the cover of his notebook.  _Why was Carl being so... mean?_  Finn couldn't figure out what had happened to the sweet, tender connection they'd discovered just weeks ago. Even the more reserved, respectful exploration they'd begun with Carl as his mentor seemed to have slipped away. Now, apparently, all Carl wanted to do was tell him what to do. And not even in a sexy way. In a... a  _dad_  way.

_Which, coming from Carl, is still hot. And isn't that kind of creepy?_  Finn sat with the question until, reluctantly, he decided it wasn't. Not that he wanted to... have sex with his father or something, because  _ew,_  but... Carl  _was_  old enough to be his dad, and Finn was his boy. And he was kind of treating Finn like he imagined a father might, if he were angry and doling out discipline. He shivered.  _I don't want to call him Daddy. But he is in charge of me._ The thought generated all kinds of yearning inside him.

But things were different now. As he turned it over and over inside himself, like a snowglobe, the feelings clarified. He could see them silhouetted over his Spanish homework, falling down upon the words on his page, until by the time Carl came back into the room ten minutes later to check on him, he was calm enough that he knew what he needed to say.

"Sir?"

Carl's hand on his back now wasn't punitive. He just let it rest between Finn's shoulder blades with the weight of comfort. "Finn. Are you making any progress?"

"Not very much," he said truthfully, showing Carl the page. "I can't stop thinking about... all this. What we're doing here." He let his head hang down, breathing as slowly and steadily as he could. "It's... different, from the way things were a couple weeks ago, in your office."

He could feel the heat of Carl's hand, like a promise. "Yes. It's different." The hand made circles on the small of his back; Finn could feel it inside, up and down his spine, into his tailbone, generating an all-too familiar warmth and need that bloomed like a flower. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the touch. Finn heard his own voice come out lazy and lethargic, as though he were speaking in a dream.

"Before. When you were teaching me. You..." He took a deep breath. Could he actually say this? To  _Carl?_  "You were nice to me. But you're not being very nice anymore."

Carl withdrew his hand, and Finn felt the lack of it keenly. He clamped his mouth on a possible whine for Carl to  _please, put it back?_  because even without direct contact between Carl's fingers and his cock, he could feel them there, as long as he was touching him.

But Carl sat down on the edge of the bed and calmly met Finn's eyes with his own. They were serious and very, very kind, and Finn felt himself leaning in, far too fascinated by the faint smile that played around the corners of his mouth. He caught himself before he actually tried to kiss him, but it was a near thing.

"You think I'm not being nice," Carl said. It could have been said as an accusation, or with disdain, or even hatred or scorn. But it wasn't. It was said quietly, mildly, with equal weight on every word. His gaze was so intense, Finn had difficulty considering his question, under the force of that azure regard.

"It doesn't feel like it," he admitted.

"No?"

"Well, I... " He shook his head. "God, I'm sorry... can you just stop  _looking_  at me like that?"

Carl's forehead furrowed. "Like what?" he said, genuinely curious.

"Like I was a snack." Finn flapped one ineffective hand at him, staring down at his own half-hard naked cock. "You're just way too hot and it's not  _helping."_

He sighed. "Okay... Finn, come here. No, come on." Carl's hand was reaching in and securing his from under him, and then he was pulling him onto his  _lap,_  completely ignoring Finn's babbled words of protest. They weren't even making sense to Finn, himself, because he was suddenly, instantly, one hundred percent calmer. Tension he didn't even realize he was holding was falling away, and he felt himself just this side of tears.

"I'm sorry," he said, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

"Finn." Carl kissed his cheek, nuzzling his ear with his nose, and leaned against him with a sigh as he clasped him close. "I think maybe I'm not being clear about my expectations here. Let's just put everything down, and take a step back, okay? We're just Finn and Carl right now. Nothing else. Got it?"

"Okay," Finn agreed, though he wasn't exactly sure how he would have ended up on Carl's lap without any pants on, if that had been the case, because... well, yeah, it was kind of a great position to be in, really, a hot guy holding him on his legs, but...

"Dude," he burst out shakily. "People don't  _do_  this."

Carl maintained his patient tone, and he didn't let go of Finn. "Do what?"

" _This._ Sit like this. Be like this. Treat each other like - like you were my freaking  _father."_  He just couldn't bring himself to say the word  _daddy,_  not in this close proximity, and not with Carl's lips on his neck.

Now he sounded amused. "How many teenagers do you know who sit on their fathers' laps, Finn?"

"You know what I mean. All that stuff about making me do my homework. What the hell? I thought we were friends." The amazing thing was, he could hear himself, the way he was sounding, and the completely irrational words coming out of his mouth, but now he couldn't stop them. They tumbled over each other in their struggle to be heard. "And there's part of me who's just really hoping you're not some guy who likes boys, because - it's kind of wigging me out."

"I can tell that," Carl nodded. He put a hand in the center of Finn's chest. "How does it feel, here, with me holding you like this?"

"Good," Finn admitted grudgingly. "I'm not as freaked. But -"

"Let me finish, please." Carl gazed at him seriously. "I hope you know, it makes  _me_  feel good, too. It took me a while to figure out I wanted anything like this. But, ever since I got clear with myself about it... I've desired it. This kind of caring relationship." Carl's hand moved to Finn's neck, stroking it, and Finn relaxed a little more into the massage. "But it's not an equal relationship. Really, no relationships are, but this kind, what we are doing here, this is specifically  _not_  egalitarian. I'm in charge; you follow my lead. Right?"

"Right." Finn reached up a hand and touched Carl's, there on his chest, and clutched it to him.

"And you do this with your boys."

"Yeah," Finn said. "But we're the same age. It's not... not the same thing."

"No, Finn, it's not. You and I, we're very far apart in age. There's already an inherent power difference between us, just because of that simple fact. I'm a middle-aged man; you're a young man." His tone sharpened. "But - Finn, don't believe for one moment that I don't see you as a man. You can be  _my boy_ , but you're not a boy. And trust me, I'm not interested in you being one."

Finn nodded, and took a deep breath. "Okay. I - okay."

"All right. There's that." He watched Finn impassively. "It's okay to be scared, Finn."

"I'm not," he insisted. "Not exactly. I mean, yeah, maybe I'm a little scared, but... that's not the main thing here."

"I'm not your father, Finn." Carl laid his hand higher on Finn's chest, framing his neck, and Finn felt his breath come a little faster. "But I am your mentor, your guide. I'm still here to give you all of that. Now, the tools I have available to me are just more effective."

Finn wrinkled his brow. "But... you don't have to be so -"

"Yeah, I do," Carl said, and he actually looked like he might be  _smiling._  "You hear me, when I tell you things, but you hear it differently this way.  _This_  way." He stroked a hand down Finn's back. "It'll stay with you, inside yourself. You won't forget anytime soon."

"No," Finn admitted.

Carl touched the notebook. "When you do what you're told, I know I can trust that you're going to listen to me in other ways, too. It's a way I can help you, improve your self-discipline, your motivation. An exercise in integrity." He gave Finn a meaningful look. "All important for a responsible Top."

Finn toyed with the edge of Carl's sleeve. "I don't feel much like a Top these days," he muttered.

"I get that, too. You don't have to feel it in order to  _do_  it - though it helps. But, Finn..." Carl's gaze turned to steel.  _"You_  agreed to take care of Kurt. And Puck. That's your responsibility, even if you don't want to do it. Even if it's hard. Even if - and I say this advisedly - you're in a new relationship and it might feel more compelling."

Finn leaned his head on Carl's shoulder and sighed. "Great. Now I feel guilty."

"I'll give you about ten seconds to dwell on that," Carl said, and kissed his cheek.

There was no way Finn wasn't going to count to ten in his head. When he got there, he glanced at Carl, almost afraid to ask. "Okay... now what?"

"Now you're done with that." He tapped the notebook. "Guilt doesn't serve you, any better than laziness or procrastination. You're an intelligent, capable young man. If you're serious about me, being in charge of you, there's no way I'm going to let you waste your skills and talents on... video games and television."

Finn smiled weakly. "Honestly, most of my time these days is going to my boyfriends. And you."

Carl smiled back and tightened his arms a little around Finn's shoulders. "Hmm, I don't count as one of those, huh?"

"Uh..." Finn blinked at him in astonishment. "Do you... I mean... do you  _want_  to be? I didn't think we -"

"Well, it's a bit of a juvenile term," Carl allowed, "but even grown people of considerable years, like myself, use it. There aren't too many good alternatives.  _Lover_  is the one most gay men seem to use."

Finn swallowed. Suddenly his bare ass on Carl's lap felt very exposed indeed. "And... we're not. I mean, we're not doing  _that._  Not that I... uh." He looked away, feeling his face heat. "God. I'm sorry."

"I know. Believe me, your reactions have made it very clear to me how much you want... certain things. But until we get there, I'll accept boyfriend." Carl's hand rested on Finn's thigh, just inches from his quiescent cock, which apparently had sonar or radar or some other kind of homing beacon for Carl's touch, because it sat up and took notice pretty damn quickly. Carl smiled, and it was not unlike the expression on a cat's face when it wakes up in the middle of a sunbeam.

He ducked his head against Carl's chest, avoiding that smile. "And that's another thing. I feel like I should be apologizing for  _everything._  It's... well, it's kind of awful. I'm usually pretty on top of things." Finn paused, thought back over what he had just said, then backtracked. "I mean..."

"You don't like feeling submissive." Carl said it like a statement, but Finn heard the question inherent in his words. Finn thought about it.

"Maybe? It's just so  _different._  Seeing things from Puck's point of view... we're not exactly the same, but I think I get some of what he wants, now."

"No, you're not exactly the same," Carl agreed. "You and Puck... you might both choose this, be called to it, and you may both want it - but you'll get there in different ways. Puck, he resists obeying; he would probably try any trick to cheat the system. You, you obey because you think it's the right thing to do."

His fingers were still there on Finn's thigh. They hadn't moved, and yet somehow, Finn felt like they  _might_. He watched himself twitch as they sat there, and Carl made a noise of satisfaction.

It would have been embarrassing, if this had been anyone but Carl, but Finn knew he could say just about anything he wanted to Carl and none of it would be a shock. He just opened his mouth and things... fell out.

"I want to obey for you," he said.

Carl suddenly looked away, his attention apparently arrested by something on the other side of the room. Finn thought maybe he should give him a moment to collect himself, so he climbed off Carl's lap and reached for his shorts.

"Since when do you get to decide what to wear at my house?" Carl's tone was mild, but he wasn't waiting around for Finn to answer. "Put those down."

"I'm cold," Finn said, dropping them. And he didn't  _know_  why he said that, because he wasn't really, and how much could a thin pair of boxers protect against that anyway? Carl snorted.

"Okay. I'll turn up the heat. But I kind of like you like this." He touched two hands to Finn's hips and moved in close behind him, just for one brief moment. _"Puede vestirse cuando hayas terminado con eso."_

Finn shivered, and it was  _definitely_  not from the chill in Carl's bedroom.  _I'm in the middle of his bed,_ Finn thought, and it shouldn't have felt like such a surprise, considering he'd been there for over a half-hour already, but the realization hit him like a blast of frigid air.  _His own bed. This is where he sleeps. He might entertain lovers here. Boyfriends. Other subs... slaves._ He felt unreasonably hurt by this.

"Okay," he said, subdued, and fixed his own gaze on his notebook. "I - I'll do it."

Carl nodded silently, but he looked as though he approved, and it was like he'd laid a blanket on Finn's chilly skin.

Finn gave Carl a tentative smile as he disappeared into the hallway. "Thank you, sir."

Finn ignored his bare, bruised rear end and concentrated on making sense of the words on the page. There wasn't any reason for it to feel easier, but somehow, it did. Every time his attention began to wander, he thought of Puck, and Kurt, at home, and the responsibility he'd accepted on their behalf.  _How can I take care of them if I can't even do my homework?_

When Carl returned, the minute hand of the clock had advanced another half-circle, and Finn was packing his book back into his bag. "Done," he said, gesturing to the notebook on the bed. "I don't know if you want to check it, or what, but I think it's all right."

_"Gracias por su trabajo,_ Finn," Carl murmured. He slid the notebook into the bag without looking at it, and set it on the floor. "If you say it's all right, I trust you."

This made Finn feel like crying, but he wasn't going to give in to it. He put on a brave face and waited there on the bed, watching while Carl walked around the room, turning off the lights in the hallway and shutting the door. He slowly took off the leather belt he wore and coiled it on top of his dresser.

"You've been a very good boy tonight," he said. "I won't keep you much longer, because it's a school night, and you should be home with your family."

Finn nodded, trying not to look too disappointed. He hadn't really expected anything more than - well, he hadn't really known  _what_  to expect, but after two weeks of nothing, he guessed it wasn't all that much of a -

Carl's hand reached under his chin and lifted it, bringing him forward to the edge of the bed, and Finn caught his breath as he kissed him, forcefully, with deliberation. Finn heard a noise come out of his mouth that he almost didn't recognize as his own voice. It was embarrassingly desperate.

"I gave you what you needed earlier, Finn," he said, close, against his mouth. Finn opened his lips for more, but Carl laid a finger against them, forestalling him. "But you didn't give me what  _I_  need."

"Yes," Finn breathed. "Yes, sir... anything. What can I do?"

Carl's hold on his chin dropped, and he reached around, taking hold of Finn's shoulders, and swiveling him around so he was on his knees again. "You can give in."

"I -" Finn glanced back at Carl's stern face, startled. "I don't understand."

"You're my  _submissive,_  Finn," Carl stressed. "You need to accept the value of  _submission._  That doesn't mean you suck it up and take it until it's over. It means you open yourself up to what your Dominant gives you. You need to find that place in yourself where you feel like you would do anything for me, and let yourself go."

The swat on Finn's behind took him by surprise, and he cried out, because the pain was intense. That wasn't Carl's hand. He tried twisting away, but Carl's strong arms held him firm. "No, Finn - don't fight it. It's what you need. Come on, my boy, I'm right here."

Finn struggled for four more strokes before he felt something in him release, and he crumpled forward onto the bed, sobbing. He buried his head in the pillow, but Carl didn't let him hide for long. "That's all right, now," he said, kneeling beside him on the bed and pulling him into an embrace. "You did so well. That was just right."

Finn shook his head furiously. "No... fuck, I just feel so  _weak."_

"Submission is one of the most powerful experiences a human being can experience. Far greater than power over is the power to let go." His hand skated down Finn's back and over the sensitive flesh on his behind, but with the two of them pressed together like that, the added sensation was nothing but pleasurable. Finn couldn't suppress a low, anticipatory moan, and to his surprise, Carl's voice echoed him.

"You -" he managed, before Carl's teeth were in his neck, and he couldn't make any more words, just let the moans come forth, tumbling out one after another. He could feel the heat of Carl's body against the bare skin of his hips.

"Watching you submit like that, for  _me..."_  he said, quiet and intense, as his tongue laved the sensitive bite on Finn's neck. "That's about the most erotic thing I've seen in years."

_Not a bad reason to do it, then,_  thought one tiny part of his brain, but the rest was caught up in gasping and thrusting and drowning in the experience of Carl, forcing him down onto his back on the bed. He observed Carl as if from a distance, devouring him with his eyes, gazing down at Finn's prone form, his breathing erratic.

"Please, sir," he said, his voice catching on the second word.

"You're going to have to do better than that," Carl said, and his own voice was thick with desire. There wasn't any question about how he might be feeling. It wasn't subtle, and neither was the bulge in his pants, suspended above Finn's chest, just inches from his face. Finn waited while Carl's fingers flickered along the button of his pants. He swallowed.

"Let me suck your cock," Finn said, deliberately making it sound rough, with a touch of command in it.

The effect on Carl was unexpected and dramatic: he flinched back, letting Finn's wrists go all at once. He knelt there on top of him, chest heaving, staring down at him, while Finn stared right back.

"You're not in charge, boy," Carl snapped, his teeth bared. "You're going to listen to  _me."_

Finn jerked his chin up defiantly, rolling in the morass of adrenaline and testosterone. "You're telling me you don't want it?"

Carl didn't agree, but he didn't deny it, either, which would have been silly, considering he was taking down his zipper now. "You're treading a fine line between another spanking, young man, and..."

"And what?" Finn didn't relish the thought of another spanking on top of his already raw skin, but he didn't care. He felt fearless, alive and entirely  _ready_  for this. Reaching for Carl's pants, he placed his hand on the bulge, stroking underneath with his thumb along the length of him. The contact was electric, and he could have sworn he could feel the charge between them, along his skin.

"Please," he relented, more quietly. "Let me - I  _need_  it."

Carl didn't exactly lean into his touch, but he held himself a little less stiffly, and his hand on top of Finn's was gentle. "You agreed I would set the pace, Finn, in this as much as anything. But... you did well tonight, and I'm not going to let that go unnoticed." He slid Finn's hand up to his zipper. "Go on."

Finn fumbled for the button on Carl's pants, and realized he was just about as turned on as he'd ever been in his life, without one touch. He struggled to sit up, but Carl pushed him back down firmly, propping himself on the bed frame with one arm as he slid his boxers down and leaned over Finn's face.

"And because I'm feeling so generous," Carl murmured, as Finn opened his mouth wide to accept him, "you can come any time you want."

Finn still felt incompetent at this particular act, but he was unreasonably pleased at the opportunity to get some practice. It wasn't the same as kneeling between the knees of Kurt or Puck, because he could barely move. But Carl wasn't looking for him to provide an expertly presented blowjob; rather, he seemed to desire nothing more than a warm, willing receptacle for his thrusts. That, at least, he could do, and as Carl set up a rhythm with his hips, Finn focused as much of his attention as possible on suppressing his gag reflex.

"Finn," he heard, and realized he'd closed his eyes. When he opened them, Carl's face was shining down on him, smiling in pleasure and pride, and he felt his heart open just as his throat had, relaxing into the devastating intensity of Carl's feelings.  _For me._

"Submission is personal," Carl said, breathy and with great focus. It took Finn a moment to realize he was talking to him. "It's intensely fulfilling for the submissive. But it's also the greatest act of service a sub can provide to his Dom. This... you, serving me... that's your gift to me. I claim it. It's mine."

_Yours,_  Finn wanted to affirm, but no sounds could come from his throat when it was being filled this way. He relied on his eyes to convey his feelings, and could only hope that Carl could hear him. Carl didn't let his gaze go, not for the entire time he fucked Finn's mouth, and didn't even close his eyes at the end. His words were instructive, direct, utilitarian - but in his eyes, Finn could see the truth.  _He loves me._

Finn did his very best to swallow it all, but Carl had to give him a hand afterwards, wiping up the excess with a tissue and kissing away the rest. He cracked his neck and lay back on the bed for several decadent minutes, staring up at the ceiling, his cock still rock-hard and twitching, grinning like an idiot.

"Wow," he said, his voice hoarse.

Carl stretched luxuriously beside him, making sinful noises that had Finn twitching all over again. He hadn't bothered to put his pants back on, and the skin-to-skin touches of their thighs made him tingle far beyond the points of contact. He rolled into Finn's neck, kissing him in the most sensitive spot, and sighed.

"On your stomach, boy," he whispered, so lovingly.

Finn moved without thinking, and when Carl's hand grazed his behind, he didn't even consider objecting. It wasn't until much later that he wondered about it; really, three spankings in a row should have been far more unpleasant than they'd been, but Carl had managed to pace things so that this, the last one, actually felt  _good_. Months later, of all the things Carl had taught him that night, that was the lesson that he remembered best.

This spanking was gentle, sensual, cupping his hand to avoid the worst of each impact. Finn could feel the tension slowly building, Carl's pacing subtle, like a jazz quintet, full of deliberation and quirky humor. Far sooner than he'd expected, he found he was gasping, squirming to aid in Carl's hand striking the most sensitive parts of each cheek.

"Such a good boy," Carl praised, keeping the pace steady. "You give me just what I need. Letting me handle it... opening up to me." He leaned in, his cheek against Finn's, the whisper of his breath hot in Finn's ear. "Your birthday's coming soon. Three weeks, hmmm?"

"Y-yes," Finn stuttered. He was caught off guard by the question.

Carl kissed his neck, sending cascading shivers down his spine to join the sensation of the swats of his hand. "A little bit at a time, you're becoming mine." Three more, on the left. "Your skin, I've claimed that. Everything you touch, every contact, that's mine." Three on the right. "Your mind, I've harnessed it. Every minute you're learning, now, is for me." Three on the sensitive underside of his buttocks,  _god._  "Your mouth, boy, your sweet mouth..."

Carl went silent for a moment, long enough that Finn pleaded, "Yes, sir... my mouth?"

"Yes." He sounded almost like he was going to lose it, and Finn craned his neck to look at him in anxious concern. But Carl just pressed him firmly back into the surface of the mattress, saying, "Stay with it. We're okay. Yes... yes, your mouth. The words you speak, the songs... the songs you sing, they're for me.  _Mine._ "

"Yes, sir," Finn whispered, and he heard Carl's shuddering breath.

The gentle spanking never stopped. Now Carl's cupped hand was making contact with the space between Finn's thighs, directly on top of his puckered opening, which clenched rhythmically with each stroke. "But this... this part of you, my beautiful, good boy... that, I leave to you, to share with anyone you wish. Your boyfriends, they touch you there?"

He'd told Carl the stories of what Puck and Kurt had done with him over Christmas, and since then, it had become another part of their sexual repertoire, Kurt or Puck's cock inside him, or a couple dry fingers, or sometimes their tongues. Carl's question made the images of their last time together vivid and powerful. He thrust against the mattress, the friction maddeningly light against the slick fabric of Carl's bedspread. "Yes, sir."

"You love it."

"I do," Finn groaned. "Yeah... I love it. God... please, sir."

"I know you want that, my boy, but we're going to go slowly. Knowing you're already being satisfied, that they're giving you what you need... that is comforting. I wouldn't want you to go... hungry, while we're moving at the appropriate pace."

Slow and measured, that was the pace Carl spoke of, and even though his hand wasn't coming anywhere near Finn's cock, he could  _feel_  it there, with every stroke. "But I want it, sir," he said, trying not to sound too much like he was whining. "I want it, from you... I want it so bad, all the time."

"I know, sweet boy, I do. Believe me, I do. We can't rush this." A light tongue, behind his ear, and Finn cried out, thrusting harder into the bed. "But don't think for one minute that I don't want to claim this, too. That I don't imagine myself, pinning you down and burying myself inside you."

"Oh god oh  _god,"_  Finn cried, his hands on either side of his head clenching in time with his ass. "Really...? You really want that?"

"So much," Carl assured him. "You doubt me?" He shifted his body so his bare legs twined with Finn's, and Finn could feel the pressure of Carl's renewed erection on his hip.

"No, sir," he assured him. "No... I believe you."

"Because I'm not seeing anyone else, Finn," he said. The impact on Finn's backside suddenly had taken on a new meaning, and even as Carl's body warmed him from the side, Finn could imagine Carl kneeling over him, nudging into his bruised and aching ass. "No other lovers in this bed. No one's giving me that. But I can wait. You're my exercise in self-control, every day."

"I don't know how you do it," Finn confessed, laughing a little. "I can barely stand being in the same room with you without wanting... everything."

"Finn, I'm pretty sure I couldn't have done it at sixteen, myself." Carl's hand dipped, just once, between Finn's legs, and he cried out again. "There's no need for you to wait, sweet boy. I told you you can come any time."

"I could. I could... right now. But..." Finn closed his eyes against the realization.

Carl's voice was very gentle. "But what?"

"But then you're going to send me home," he whispered. "And I don't want to go."

"Oh... no, Finn. No. I'm not going to send you home. You can stay... until you're ready to go."

"I don't..." He choked, the emotions overwhelming the physical sensations. "I don't want to be in the way. I mean, if you have other things to do..."

"Finn." He didn't know his name could sound like  _that,_ could be like the thrust of a hand, like fingers piercing him. He quailed under the force of it. "Listen to me. I have  _nothing_  else I would rather be doing right now.  _Nothing_. This is exactly where you belong."

He hadn't even realized he'd been holding on, but his hands unclenched from the bedspread, and he let himself fall, shouting as he ground into the mattress, now slick with his release. And Carl's hand stopped its constant motion, and his arms came around him, and pulled Finn against his body, clutching him fiercely.

"Right here," he said. "Right here. You're mine, you hear me?"

"Yes," Finn said, pressing his face into Carl's chest, taking gulp after gulp of air, holding on as tightly as he could. "Yes,  _please."_

He didn't even notice the chill of the room anymore, but Carl took a moment to pull the sheets back and cover them up. Finn relaxed into the comforting warmth of Carl's skin and the blanket. Somehow resting his head on Carl's pillow was one of the most intimate things they'd done together, and he found himself lying there for some time, gazing into his face with a sense of wonder.

"Thank you, sir," he said softly. "How'd you know exactly what I needed?"

Carl stroked a gentle line from his cheek, to his chin and down along his neck. "You make your needs very clear, Finn. I'm here to listen, and watch, and learn you."

He trembled a little under his light touch. "And you really want that?"

"Yes," Carl said, smiling. "I really want that."

They lay in the dim light of his room for some time, not speaking. Finn could see the moonlight coming in through the trees off Carl's back deck. He imagined waking up in Carl's bed, and having breakfast together out there before going to school. It was a compelling image.

"One more thing I want you to do for me this week." Carl stroked his face. "If you think you can."

"Anything," Finn said, and Carl paused momentarily in his stroking before sighing and kissing his cheek. "What is it, sir?"

"I want you to... sing me a song."

"Uh... okay?" Finn wrinkled his brow. "You could play guitar, I guess?"

"No, Finn. I mean at school. A song, in your Glee club, for me. Something to show everyone how you feel about this. About us." He laid his scratchy cheek against Finn's smooth one. "We're never, ever going to be able to be open about this relationship, not while you're in high school. But you could give me this. Tell Puck and Kurt why you're doing it. Then someone will be witness to what you're doing."

"You'll never hear it," Finn said, confused, but Carl kissed him again, and he nodded. "Sure. I'll do it."

"Of course you will. You're my good boy."

Finn sighed into the feeling those words generated inside him, and relaxed against Carl's chest. "What should I sing?"

"You and I, we've sung some Beatles. That might be nice. Or - here. I told you I was going to lend you this album." Carl slipped out from under the covers, striding half-naked to the dresser, where a small CD player sat. He shuffled through the CDs stacked up beside it, and smiled. "Here."

Finn looked at the cover.  _Waiting for the Sun._  "The Doors?"

"Yes. Every young man should hear it. And you... you'll be inspired. I'm sure."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puck deals with his angst about Finn by singing a song in Glee. He takes some shit for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't yet realized this, there is another parallel story to this one, about Adam Lambert and Kurt's relationship, entitled [While We Got the Chance to Say](http://archiveofourown.org/works/788832/). It's about as sweet as BDSM gets.
> 
> I know Karofsky is absolutely awful here, but he was in the show, too, in first season. And he has good reasons for it. If you know me, you know I love Dave like anything, so just trust me and I'll get him where he needs to go eventually. Enjoy.  
> -amy

Puck knew it wasn't a good sign when he spent the first week back at school after winter break feeling combative. Nobody was looking at him directly in the eye, but he was feeling like he might have to force the issue. He wasn't going to miss the opportunity to prove that he hadn't changed since he drove away from Ohio in December to find himself. He bolstered his swagger and put his hand on Kurt's waist as they stepped away from the Navigator.  _Yeah, this is my boyfriend,_  his posture said.  _Yeah, I like dick. What are you going to do about it, huh?_

But it was just bluster, even if he and Kurt were the only ones who knew it. He also knew he wasn't ever going to rid himself of his reputation as the tough bad boy. He supposed it would have been hard for anyone who didn't know him to realize that the slim, stylish figure at his side was the one in charge of  _him_  - or that it was exactly what Puck needed, what he'd craved all his life. No matter; he wasn't going to disabuse them of their beliefs. At McKinley, the name  _Puck_ was synonymous with  _badass,_  and it wasn't the worst cover in the world. He had enough people in his life who knew him for who he really was.

Kurt, for one. Puck shifted his hand from Kurt's waist to take his hand, smiling at him with feigned confidence. Kurt smiled back, tentatively giving his hand a squeeze. Kurt was used to being the underdog at school; being out as Puck's boyfriend wasn't going to change his social standing all that much. It wasn't going to make anything easier for Kurt, either, but he could assume Kurt would be able to handle it himself. Kurt was more in charge of things than just about anybody at their house right now.

Puck heard Finn enter the doors behind them, talking to his friends on the basketball team. Finn understood him, had, in fact, all his life, since they'd been kids. Puck could count on Finn to accept him for who he was, even if Finn wasn't in any position to be in charge of him at the moment. He knew it was going to be a hell of a long road back to where they'd been, after all that shit between the two of them. And anyway, Finn was entirely too caught up in his new relationship with Carl for it to matter right now. It was a little weird seeing  _Finn_  fall into such familiar patterns of submission, but at the same time, Puck was happy knowing he was getting what he needed.

He watched Finn approach Rachel in the hallway, giving her a smile. It wasn't the smile he gave to Puck or Kurt in the morning when they woke up, or the stupid one he had when Carl was around, but it  _was_  just for her, and Puck tried not to let the resentment show in his face. Finn had never been jealous of  _Puck,_  taking  _his_ girlfriends. Frankly, Puck had always thought that jealousy was something that happened to other people. Now that he was feeling it about Finn, it was kind of pissing him off.

There wasn't any reason to feel jealous, he told himself. Whatever Finn was doing with Rachel, it wasn't anything like what he had with Puck or Kurt. But watching Finn, knowing he was hiding, alone - Puck knew just how much that sucked, especially considering how much Finn hated lying. He  _wanted_  to be public at school with Finn, as much as he'd wanted it with Kurt. And waiting for the right time wasn't Puck's strong suit. The fact that Finn was willing to be Rachel's pretend boyfriend, but couldn't be Puck's real one - that  _really_ sucked.

But at least there were their friends, some of them unlikely, who knew the truth: the kids in Glee who'd accepted him with open arms. Mercedes, Santana, Quinn, Tina - even Matt, who was super religious, and Mike, who still seemed completely freaked out about the idea of  _two_  guys together, much less  _three_  - they'd all slowly come around. And Mr. Schue, who'd turned out to play for their team in some capacity, even if he was still hiding it from most people.

Puck heard a snicker and an indistinct snide remark as he passed the junior lockers. He glared in the general direction of the comment, but Kurt murmured, "Let it go, sweetheart," and he subsided a little. He got it; they would have to pick their battles. But he wasn't going to let anybody fuck with Kurt, not when he was around to stop them.

"Not hiding's easier, huh?" he said, as a group of freshman broke into giggles when they walked by.

Puck felt Kurt sigh. "It will be. Give them a little time to recover after being home from vacation. They're completely starved for gossip."

"And you want to give it to them, is that it?" Puck smirked, thinking of Kurt kissing him in the parking lot at Pat's. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers watching, then took Kurt's shoulder and gave him a little push against the bank of lockers they were passing. Kurt's eyes widened, and he startled back.

"What -" Kurt got out, his face red, before Puck closed on him. It was almost exactly like the situation they'd been in dozens of times before, Puck slamming Kurt up against the lockers, demanding something from him. Only this time, what he was demanding was a kiss. There were at least two wolf whistles and two cries of "gross," but Puck didn't care.

"You," Kurt breathed, when Puck was done, staring up at him with a fixed, somewhat glassy expression, "are in so much trouble."

"I was kind of counting on that," Puck agreed, grinning, his face inches from Kurt's.

He backed away, holding out his hand, and Kurt took it - just as Karofsky rounded the corner. His eyes narrowed as he focused on their joined hands, and he scowled.

Kurt stiffened, but Puck tugged him along past Karofsky's staring eyes and continued on toward class. Kurt didn't let out his breath until Karofsky was out of sight.

"He's just another guy, Kurt," Puck muttered. "Don't give him the fucking time of day."

But Puck could feel the residual tension in Kurt's body, long after Karofsky was gone. It made him anxious enough that he decided to shadow Kurt to creative writing class. He didn't care about being a little late to chemistry. Kurt stopped him at the door to say goodbye, acknowledging Brittany's wave as she pushed past them.

"You guys should make out behind the file cabinet in the Cheerios' office," she offered helpfully. "That's totally my favorite place. Oh, that, or the boys' locker room."

"Thanks, Britt," Kurt said, successfully avoiding rolling his eyes. Puck wasn't going to tell her about  _his_  favorite place to make out. He wasn't sure how they'd gotten away with keeping their attic room a secret for the last month, but he appreciated its presence more than ever now. He hoped Brad would let them keep their agreement - moving the boxes of music downstairs for Mr. Schue, in exchange for having the safe space for the three of them - even now that he and Kurt were out at school. Finn sure as fuck would still need it. And he, himself, might need it after what he was planning to do in Glee today.

He hadn't thought about singing it at all until Mr. Schue had asked them to do songs that had the word  _hello_  in them. Puckzilla never said hello. He actually wasn't sure he'd ever said the word before. He said  _hey._  And there was a song that started that way, a song with which he'd become intimately familiar in the past several weeks.

The way he'd originally heard it, it was a nice song, fitting with his standard repertoire of thoughtful guitar ballads, but on the studio album, it was... different. Angry, kind of. He knew by now it was P!nk's style that made it that way, because she mostly sang that kind of angry chick music. Puck didn't think he was harboring any kind of anger about things in his life these days, because things were a hell of a lot better than they'd been three weeks ago. But then he'd stopped by Finn's locker on his way to history yesterday, and Finn had shown him the calendar.

"What the fuck is  _that?"_  he'd asked, and Finn had laughed.

"Um... Rachel made it for me. For us." The bemused smile on Finn's face had made Puck's brain hurt, but he kept it to himself. That picture was just crazy. "It's a calendar of stuff we can do together. Look, we're going to see Phantom at the autistic children's center on Wednesday. You should take Kurt."

"So, what, are you guys, like, going out or something?"

Puck had meant it as a joke, but Finn had shrugged and said, "Something. She sure seems to think so, anyway."

"Really." He gave Finn the signature Puckerman eyebrow. "Because dating girls worked so well for you the last couple times you tried it."

Finn sighed, but it was more testy than resigned. "Hey, I don't think you're one to talk, considering who you went to Santa Fe to see. Or who you came back with in your pocket."

Puck wasn't going to talk about Adam at school, and Finn knew it, but Puck bristled at the mention of his other lovers. "I  _like_  chicks, dude. Always have, always will.  _You,_  on the other hand, seemed pretty clear you weren't interested in them anymore."

"Yeah, well, things change." Finn slammed his locker and glared at Puck. "You know  _that,_  too."

"Hey," Puck said, stung, but Finn went on down the hall without him. The words he wanted to shout after him were the title of the song - so it got him thinking.

Puck thought the whole thing through that night, eating dinner by himself in his little apartment downtown next to Carl's office. At first he thought the acoustic version would be sufficient, just him and his guitar, because the words alone conveyed what he wanted to say to Finn. But this thing with Rachel had him all riled up. The song needed an edge. He picked up his phone.

"Hey, Artie, my man," he said.

"Who is this?" Artie asked suspiciously.

"It's Puck. Listen, I need a favor, of the axe variety. You know a drummer?"

Once he got Artie through the  _why are you calling me_  questions, and assured him he wasn't planning any more dumpster trips or port-a-potty adventures - he made sure to apologize for that again - and hedged his way around the  _why aren't you asking Finn to play drums_  question, they got on more comfortable footing and started talking music. Artie agreed to back him on the bass, and to find Puck a drummer.

He thought, briefly, about asking Kurt or Adam if  _they_  thought this was a good idea. He actually thought he might know how Kurt would react, at least. That  _maybe_  should have given him pause to reconsider - but really, Kurt had enough to worry about. And Adam... well, he'd been a little on edge himself the last couple days, with his album release and everything.

Puck was glad, at least, that Kurt and Adam seemed to be becoming friends. More than friends, if Kurt's behavior was to be believed over his words, but Puck wasn't going to push him. Adam had sent him  _flowers,_  after all, even if Kurt said they were just an apology for his drunk phone call.

He was kind of surprised Kurt didn't seem to have any of the stuff in his bathroom that Puck needed to do his face the right way, but Sarah found some in her makeup kit.

"What do you need it for?" she asked, handing him the little tube.

"Glee," he said vaguely. "I'm singing a song, and I have to look the part."

So by the time American history was wrapping up the next day, Puck managed to convince the substitute he had to go set up for his number a little early. He found Mr. Schue in his office. Mr. Schue looked up in surprise when Puck poked his head through the door.

"Hey, Puck," said Mr. Schue. "Just trying to figure out what to do now that the Cheerios are using the auditorium half the time... what can I do for you?"

"Just getting ready for my song. How's Toby liking his new digs?"

Mr. Schue smiled in embarrassment. "He's adjusting," he said, pushing his chair back from his desk. "Mornings are hard for him. It's going to be a while until he gets used to going to bed before midnight like a sane person. But he'll be all right." He nodded at Puck. "How are things for you and Kurt? I've been keeping my ears open for anything untoward, but it seems like you guys have mostly been left alone?"

"There are rumblings," Puck shrugged. "I don't think it'll be too long before something happens. Uh, maybe today. That's what I wanted to tell you about. This song... it's kind of important to me, and I want to do it right. You got a mirror?"

* * *

Rachel seemed to want to walk arm-in-arm with him wherever they went, which wasn't a problem for Finn except that she was a lot shorter than him, and it was a little uncomfortable, leaning down to link elbows like that. "You're going to sing a hello song, right, Finn?" she said brightly.

"I don't know." He hesitated in the doorway to the choir room, looking back at Kurt, who was chattering with Mercedes. "I'm feeling a little off my game these days."

She gave him a sympathetic pat. "I know you didn't quite make your best showing at basketball this week, but you'll do better next time."

"Not just basketball. It's everything. The thing with Puck..." He couldn't really tell her more than that, but it was good to have a sympathetic ear. He settled himself into a chair on the risers, watching Artie and the drummer from jazz band set up. "What's Artie playing?"

"I don't know. And don't worry... it'll take a while before you and Noah can really be friends again." Then Rachel froze, her eyes locked on the door to Mr. Schue's office. "Oh... my."

"What - ?" Finn caught a startled glance from Kurt, who looked just as stunned as Rachel. Then he saw Puck. Holding the microphone.

In flawless eyeliner, his gaze directed right at Finn.

"Oh my god," he heard Kurt say.

"I don't really say hello," Puck said, his voice flat and grim. "The first line of this song is about as close as I come. But it asks a question that... that needed to be asked, anyway."

He began a simple riff on his electric guitar - one that was familiar by now, even to Finn. Kurt had turned positively white. The rest of Glee was mystified, but riveted on Puck's dramatic change in appearance, and the room was silent as he began to sing in a breathy, intense style. It was entirely unlike Puck, and completely compelling at the same time.

"Who is that?" Rachel whispered.

"Adam Lambert," Finn whispered back.

_<http://youtu.be/3_9AOqEMM6g> _

_Hey_  
 _Slow it down_  
 _Whataya want from me?_  
 _Whataya want from me?_  
 _Yeah, I'm afraid_  
 _Whataya want from me?  
_ _Whataya want from me?_

_There might have been a time_  
 _When I would give myself away_  
 _Once upon a time I didn't give a damn_  
 _But now, here we are_  
 _So whataya want from me  
_ _Whataya want from me_

Hazel eyes stared out at him from dark-painted sockets. Finn couldn't look away. As the drums kicked in, Puck's expression became pleading.

_Just don't give up_  
 _I'm working it out_  
 _Please don't give in, I won't let you down_  
 _It messed me up, need a second to breathe_  
 _Just keep coming around_  
 _Hey, whataya want from me_  
 _Whataya want from me  
_ _Whataya want from me_

_Yeah, it's plain to see_  
 _that baby you're beautiful_  
 _And there's nothing wrong with you_  
 _It's me, I'm a freak_  
 _but thanks for lovin' me  
_ _Cause you're doing it perfectly_

Finn swallowed, feeling Rachel's confused glance, but the music wasn't letting him go. It wasn't just the song. It was  _Puck_ , singing it for  _him,_  asking him for - for something he wasn't ready to give.  _No._ Not anymore.

_There might have been a time_   
_When I would let you slip away_   
_I wouldn't even try_   
_But I think you could save my life_

_Just don't give up_  
 _I'm working it out_  
 _Please don't give in, I won't let you down_  
 _It messed me up, need a second to breathe_  
 _Just keep coming around_  
 _Hey, whataya want from me_  
 _Whataya want from me  
_ _Whataya want from me_

Artie, Puck and the drummer rocked out until the song's conclusion, and as the whole room burst into applause, Puck finally looked away. Finn felt like he'd been picked up in enormous jaws and shaken.

"Finn?" Rachel said, so many questions in her voice.

"I - " Finn began, then stopped. He had no idea what to say.

He needn't have worried; Rachel answered them in her own way. "He's in love with you," she said sadly. "And I suppose that's to be expected." She sighed. "You'll just have to let him down easily. He was your best friend, once, after all."

"He... was," Finn said. "I thought he still was. Maybe he could be again, someday."

Finn wouldn't have seen the aftermath if he hadn't tried to follow Kurt out to get his reaction. Kurt looked almost more upset by the performance than Finn had been, but he didn't have anything to say about it. He simply took Puck by the arm - in a completely different way than Rachel ever did with Finn - and they walked briskly toward Puck's locker.

They almost made it.

"Hey, girly," said a raunchy voice, full of inappropriate innuendo, and Finn and Rachel's eyes both snapped up to see Karofsky and three other hockey players, holding slushies in their hands, standing in all three of the exits. "You're looking lovely today. Did you do something with your hair?"

"Get away from him, douchebag," Puck growled, but Karofsky's grin was manic, and he wasn't looking at Kurt.

"I was talking to  _you,_ pretty boy," he said, drawing it out, and his friends sniggered. "Look at that makeup job. What happened to your lipstick?"

"Came off when I gave your friend there that blowjob," Puck said shortly. One of the hockey players started for Puck, but Karofsky gave him a brief shake of his head, and he held back, snarling.

"You've got quite a mouth on you, Puckerman." Karofsky's gaze narrowed, and he approached Puck. "You want to open up and take what I've got for you?"

"God," Finn muttered, and he started forward, but Rachel held him back.

"He's not going to hurt him," she whispered. "Just - don't interfere. It's better that way."

"No, it's not," Finn said, shaking his head. "It's fucking bullshit is what it is." He raised his voice. "Leave him alone."

Karofsky's eyes lit on Finn, and his smile grew. "'Bout time your other boyfriend came around."

Finn's heart stuttered and nearly stopped, but he managed to keep going, feeling his hands tuck into fists. "You're gross, Karofsky. And you can't treat people like that. Not Kurt, not Puck, not  _anybody."_

"Oh, yeah?" Karofsky's lip curled, and he raised his own fists a little. Finn was taller, but Karofsky was bigger, and Finn had a sinking feeling who'd win if it came to a fistfight. He hoped it didn't. The two of them had too much history. And he'd done enough hitting of his friends.  _Former friends,_ he thought, and felt something tear inside his chest.

"Get out of here, Kurt," he said. Kurt stared at him in disbelief, but Finn stared back, and there wasn't any hesitation in his command. "Go on."

Kurt took one step away, then looked at Karofsky, and fled. Karofsky and the three hockey players closed on Puck.

"It's just you and me, now, pretty boy," He dropped his fist and held up the slushie. "You need a new 'do. That mohawk is so last year."

Puck actually grinned, keeping his eyes off Finn. "Hey, I can take anything wet you want to splash me with. Give it your best shot." He ran seductive hands down the front of his t-shirt. "Come on, Karofsky. Right here."

For a split second, Finn thought Karofsky might back down. He wasn't angry. He looked absolutely  _terrified._  Then his chin firmed, and he brought back his hand, and all four slushies landed directly in Puck's face.

Karofsky's finger was pointed at him next. "You'd better watch it, Puckerman," he hissed. "You're in for it now. You and your fucking boyfriend."

"I'm counting on it," Puck shot back, but it just wasn't as powerful a statement when said through blue, purple and red colored ice. He wiped the residue from his eyes and stood alone in the center of the hallway in his own personal puddle, glaring at the hockey players as they all strode away.

"Dude," Finn said, but Puck shook his head, looking suddenly tired. The six feet between them felt like miles.

"You can't," said Puck.

Finn didn't move. "I know."

"So get the fuck out of here. You and your girlfriend." It was said without rancor, but Finn felt it anyway, a stab to his heart.

"Come on," Rachel said, tugging his arm. "You did everything you could."

Finn knew it wasn't true, but it was all Puck was going to accept. He wished he had the guts to do more.

* * *

Puck wiped his hand off on the quilt that covered the mattress in their attic room, and shivered. It was cold up there. The ice running down his butt crack didn't help, either. With his reasonably clean hand, he dug around in his backpack until he found his phone. He only hesitated for a moment before dialing the number.

"Hummel Tires and Lube, this is Burt."

"Uh... Burt, it's... Puck."

"Puck?" Burt was instantly on alert. "Is something wrong? Did something happen to Kurt?"

Puck stifled his sigh. "No... it's me. I'm... uh, I could use a change of clothes. And underwear."

There was a pause. "Do I want to know the details?"

"Probably not," Puck admitted.

"Yeah. But you'll tell me them anyway, if I bring you clothes. Where should I meet you?"

He found an alcove to hide in downstairs by the side door, managing to avoid being stared at by too many more students. The quilt kept him from shivering as he made his way to Burt's truck.

"You can leave your truck here overnight?" Burt said gruffly. "They won't tow it or anything?"

"Wouldn't be the end of the world if they did," Puck said, looking away from Burt's scrutiny. He knew the eyeliner wouldn't escape his notice, but Burt didn't say anything about it. He did reach behind his seat and hand Puck a reasonably clean towel, which Puck used to wipe off his face.

"That quilt," Burt said. Puck tucked it around his shoulders as Burt cleared his throat. "Elizabeth made that. Kurt's mom."

"Oh," he said, suddenly worried, but Burt gave him a mild smile.

"It was old when Kurt was born. Kurt had it on his bed until we got him that duvet, and he never looked back." Burt shook his head. "I'm not sure I want to know why it was at school."

"Trust me, you don't." Puck used the towel to wipe under his eyes, and came away with two dark smudges on the cloth.

"I brought the clothes for you, but I figured you might want to just get dressed back at - the house."

"Thanks." Puck leaned his head back on the seat, closing his eyes. "I can make dinner tonight."

Burt's voice was soft. "You don't have to  _do_  anything in return. It's your goddamn house too."

Puck wasn't sure how to explain that he  _wanted_  to, or that it still wasn't his house yet, even though Burt had offered it to him. So he just nodded, and said, "Sarah's a good cook."

"She does just fine." Burt reached out and put a hand on Puck's knee. "What do you want to talk about first?"

Puck found himself starting back on the first day of school, when Mr. Schue had given the Glee assignment, and he didn't stop talking until long after they'd reached the house. They sat in the driveway, letting the motor idle and the heat turned up all the way on Puck's soaking frame, and Burt listened to Puck tell about Finn and Rachel, and Kurt, and Karofsky. When he got to the part about Finn telling Kurt to run, Burt let out a long, slow sigh.

"It's better," Burt said, as if to himself. "It's better that way. Kurt doesn't need any more crap from that Neanderthal."

"Yeah, well, he's definitely got a bug up his butt about Kurt. And me, now, apparently." Puck shrugged. "I'm not afraid of Karofsky. And I can take care of any crap that Kurt gets, too."

"Mmmm." Burt turned off the engine and sat back in his seat for a moment. "And who's going to take care of you?"

For a second, Puck felt the panic race up his spine, and he clutched at the cushion of Burt's passenger seat.  _No Kurt. No Adam. No Finn. I'm alone._

Then Burt was there, unbuckling his seatbelt and helping him down from the passenger side, supporting him like some fucking invalid as he shivered his way to the door. "Go on into Kurt's bathroom and get cleaned up," he said, pressing the bag of clothes on him. "And don't worry about dinner. We're taking care of you tonight."

That was about Puck's limit of parental care, and he found himself crying helplessly into Burt's arms. Burt didn't make any noise about it. He just took Puck into the bathroom and set him down on the edge of the toilet, and helped him struggle out of his soaked and sticky t-shirt and jeans. "It's okay," he murmured, discarding Puck's clothes in a heap on the tile. Kurt never would have allowed that, but from Burt, it was fine, and Puck sat quietly in the tub while Burt ran him a bath.

"You're not going to, like, wash my hair or something, are you?" Puck said, glancing at Burt over the edge of the tub. Burt snorted.

"I won't tell anybody if you won't," he said, and reached for Kurt's favorite shampoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song credit: "Whataya Want From Me," copyright 2009 by Pink, Max Martin, and Shellback, performed by Adam Lambert.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will agrees to let Emma be his beard if he helps her with something in return, but Toby's not thrilled with the idea. Finn tries to figure out what his relationship with Rachel means. Will comes to Carmel to meet Shelby and talk with her about Jesse St. James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an effort to keep canon as close as possible, a good portion of this chapter is quoted directly from the episode. No copyright infringement is intended. Enjoy.  
> -amy

"So Sue knows about you and Toby," Emma said, rearranging the pamphlet displays again. They looked perfect to Will, but apparently they weren't quite in the right locations for Emma. "But she hasn't told Figgins?"

"She's got something on him," Will said. "I don't know what, but she's using it, and it's big. I'm trying to stay out of her way. In the meantime, I really need some kind of cover. I mean, what would the parents of McKinley do if they found out their Glee club director was... engaged to a man?"

Emma smiled. "I think they'd be relieved to know their gaydar wasn't broken."

"What?"

"Nothing. Will, do you know the term _beard?"_

Will thought. "I'm assuming you don't mean the thing that grows on my face when I forget to shave."

She grimaced and flexed her hands. "Ew. Yes, not that. I'm talking about when a straight person marries a gay person to hide the fact that they're gay. Or it could be two gay people, I imagine. In any case, it provides the gay person with camouflage to continue their true relationships in secret."

Will crossed his arms and frowned. "Emma... that's exactly what I didn't want to do with you. I mean, things with Toby were hidden for so long... I don't want to try to pretend he's not my... you know."

Emma didn't look convinced. She clasped her hands on her desk. "Maybe just for a little while, until this thing with Sue blows over. You need one, Will. And... I need your help, too." She sighed. "I'm looking for a boyfriend."

"Emma," Will said uncomfortably, but Emma shook her head.

"Not... you. I mean, you know how I feel about you, Will, but I know I'm not in Toby's league. It's okay." She picked up the red stuffed pig off her desk and turned it over in her hands. "But I'm having problems. I want to start dating, but I can't get past some... issues. I could use some help with that, from somebody I trust."

"You want my help," said Will. Emma nodded.

"I could help you with Sue at the same time," she offered. "If you think it would. Help."

"Yeah... yeah!" He cocked his head at her. "That could... if you really think you could do it, and if I'm not going to hurt you, that could work."

"All right, Will." Emma held out her hand with businesslike efficiency, and he shook it. "You've got yourself a girlfriend."

"Wow. Uh... so..." Will sat down across from her at her desk and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi," she replied, suddenly breathy, her eyes wide as saucers.

He grimaced. "This is kind of weird, isn't it. We've been in this exact situation a hundred times... only this time, I could just lean over and kiss you. If I wanted to."

Emma looked taken aback. "Uh... do you want to?"

He shrugged, leaning in, and she retreated across her desk. "That's what you do when you're dating, right?"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on..." She reached down next to her desk and pulled out what looked to be a dental hygiene kit, complete with little hooks and mirrors and three kinds of toothpaste. "I just need to clean up first."

Will was taken aback. "Uh... Emma. I don't care. We've kissed before."

"No, you caught me by surprise sneak attack." She shook her head, her smile fading. "I'm sorry, this is a completely unattractive quality."

Will grinned. "You're adorable. And you're right. We need to do this right..." He sat her down in front of the desk. "Let's go on a date. I'll cook."

"I didn't know you could cook," she said, her smile returning. That was better. She looked so much more relaxed. Will knew that Emma needed to be wooed, to be swept off her feet. She deserved that - even if he wasn't really her boyfriend.

"There's so many things you don't know about me," he said, grinning bigger. "And I look forward to sharing them all with you."

* * *

Finn stopped Mr. Schue outside the auditorium. "Uh," he said, and decided the direct approach usually worked best. "I saw you and Miss Pillsbury. In her office. Did you try to... kiss her?"

Mr. Schue looked a little sheepish. "Yeah... that."

"Dude," Finn said, dropping his voice against the throng of students passing by, "you're not cheating on Toby, are you?"

"Finn, you of all people should understand when things are complicated." Mr. Schue didn't look happy, though. "If you must know, Miss Pillsbury is helping me... like a disguise, in front of Coach Sylvester, so she can't make trouble for us. For me, or Glee club."

"Oh." He blinked. "I think... you know, Rachel's kind of doing that for me, too. Except I don't think she knows she is."

"Hmmm." Mr. Schue frowned at him. "That doesn't sound like you, Finn. Are you planning to tell her the truth?"

Finn was silent for a moment. "I... I think I have to. I mean, I think she's just about the only one in Glee who still thinks I'm straight. The rest of the school, though... I can't let it come out. It's bad enough that he's out about his relationship with Kurt. If they found out Puck was with me and Kurt, they'd never let him stay with us. They'd send him and Sarah away to a foster home. But... I really don't like lying." He squirmed, thinking of Carl. Lying to Mr. Schue was even worse than lying to Rachel, but that was something he'd never be able to talk about. Not until he was out of high school, Carl had said. If they were even still together then.

Mr. Schue gave Finn a sympathetic look. "I know it's been hard on you since the baby drama... trust me, I get it... and hiding like that? It sucks."

"You seem to be handling it fine."

Mr. Schue nodded. "Well, it's because I realized I had to find this new person inside of me. The one that was okay with what happened."

Finn thought about Kurt and Puck, walking down the hall together. He could feel the lies he was still telling, lurking just under the surface, and he flinched away from them. "I just feel so bad about myself."

Mr. Schue shook his head, smiling. "Finn, that guy who made all those bad choices, who ignored the signs about who you really are... he's gone. This new, more experienced, more interesting guy is here, and I brought you here to introduce you to him. Help you move forward."

Finn paused. "Uh, you mean, like, meeting someone else? Because I really think I've reached my limit..."

"No, it's not about meeting someone else. It's about being okay just being you." Mr. Schue put an encouraging hand on his back. "C'mon, you're a rock star, Finn! Feel like Jagger... Morrison."

"Yeah, I like that. Morrison." He thought about the copy of Waiting for the Sun that Carl had pressed into his hands, and felt his stomach clench with anticipation. "Hey... the Doors have a hello song. So maybe I could find myself and do my Glee assignment at the same time?" Not to mention giving Carl what he wants.

[ _http://youtu.be/_P6Of4IpOFA_ ](http://youtu.be/_P6Of4IpOFA)

_Hello, I love you_   
_Won't you tell me your name?_   
_Hello, I love you_   
_Let me jump in your game_

_She's walking down the street_   
_Blind to every eye she meets_   
_Do you think you'll be the guy_   
_To make the queen of the angels sigh?_

Even singing a song about a girl when it wasn't really about a girl was hard. But it wasn't hard to feel sexy, not when he had the right motivation. He could tell; everyone could see it. Kurt was clearly blown away, and the pride in Rachel's eyes was impossible to miss. Even Brittany and Santana approached him afterwards.

"You're a really good dancer," Britt said.

Finn thought that might have been the first time anyone had ever said that to him. He smiled in confusion. "Thanks, but... my feet weren't really moving..."

"That was the best part."

Santana jumped in, looking crafty. "Britt and I were wondering if you wanted to go out."

His confusion grew. "Like, on a date? With which one of you?" What the hell are they playing at? They know very well what's going on with me and Kurt and Puck.

They smiled at each other. "With both of us," they chorused.

"We heard you're wanting to figure out this girl thing again," Britt added. "I won't tell you who told Santana, but his name rhymes with f-"

"Britt," Santana hissed. "Ixnay on the iming-ray."

Brittany pouted. "You know I can't understand you when you speak your native language."

"Thanks, but I think I've got the, uh, girl thing covered," Finn assured them. Santana put a hand on his arm. It felt amazingly familiar, and nothing like Rachel's. He looked at it for a while before moving his arm away.

"Finnocence, the only thing you have covered are those ridiculous nipples of yours. Frankly, after that performance of yours, we're seeing you in a whole new light." Santana smiled at him with a distinctly predatory manner. "And going out with two girls? Can you think of better camouflage?"

She had a point. "Okay," he said. "I have something on Wednesday night, but - "

"Cancel it. I'll let you know when." Santana gave him a little wave as she and Brittany sauntered away.

More hiding. It's exactly what I don't want to do. He sighed. At least Britt and Santana had no illusions about who he was. Rachel, on the other hand... his guilt flared again as he watched her talking with Mr. Schue across the room. I have to do something.

The opportunity for something happened in the hallway the next morning after the two cheerleaders approached him, apparently ready to eat... something... right then and there. He watched them nervously.

"Breadstix," said Santana. "Eight o'clock. Table for three?"

Rachel eyed Britt and Santana walking away from Finn's locker with a suspicious glare. "What did they want?"

Finn hesitated. "Oh, nothing... just the time."

She tried that link-arms thing again as they set off down the hall, and Finn felt it tugging on his spine. "I know being my boyfriend is a challenge," she said. "I'm not Quinn, I don't look like her, I'm not popular, and my personality, though exciting and full of surprises isn't exactly low-maintenance, but... I'll always be honest with you. Painfully so. And all I ask in return is that you're just honest with me."

 _Shit._ That was just about the worst thing she could have said to him. He took a deep breath and said the words he'd been thinking all night. "I don't think I want to be your boyfriend."

Rachel went still. "What?"

"Look, Rachel, you're really awesome, but I think I need to... connect with my inner rock star before fully committing to... one woman." That all sounded like a load of bullshit, even to him. He tried again. "I need to find out who I am now."

Her face went hard. "I'll tell you who you are. You're a scared little boy. You're afraid of dating me because it might hurt your reputation, which, though you'd never admit it, is very important to you. You hate what Quinn did to you, not just because it hurt but because it was so humiliating."

Finn had no trouble summoning up a worried expression, but it was more about Rachel's anxiety than about anything she was saying. "You're freaking me out," he said, hoping he sounded genuine. "It's like you're inside my head right now."

"I just see you for who you are," she retorted. Finn stifled a sigh. If that were true, I doubt you'd be here right now. "Unlike you, who can only see me as this silly girl who made a fool out of herself in her first Glee club rehearsal."

"That's not true," he protested, but she'd built up a head of steam, and she wasn't stopping.

"And that's where you lose, Finn. Because if you take a second and look at me you'd realize that I'm the only person in your life who knows you and accepts you for who you are. No matter what."

He watched her take off down the hall in a huff, feeling another twinge of guilt. Better to get it over with now, though, he thought, running his hand over his neck. Maybe I should just tell her the whole truth. She's right; she deserves it. She's been nothing but my friend. A crazy one, granted, but... what in my life isn't crazy right now?

But he had to wonder what Rachel had already guessed, when she sang that song in Glee.

[ _http://youtu.be/VFFrcJM0lAI_ ](http://youtu.be/VFFrcJM0lAI)

_When you see my face_   
_I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell_   
_When you walk my way_   
_I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell_

_If you find a man that's worth a damn and treats you well_   
_Then he's a fool_   
_You're just as well_   
_Hope it gives you hell_

* * *

"You just left them at the restaurant?" asked Carl.

"It was a stupid idea to begin with," Finn sighed, leaning back in Carl's arms. "They just wanted to talk about how hot I could be if I changed my image, and spend time together. So I just got in the car and drove out here. They can take a cab home. I really don't know what I was thinking, agreeing to go on a date with them."

"Mmmm," said Carl. He stroked Finn's bare shoulder, raising goosebumps. "I can imagine what you were thinking. Two beautiful girls, on a date with them both... I can imagine that very well."

"Yeah, but you like girls," Finn protested. "Women. Whatever. You've had girlfriends."

"Yes, and so did you. Fooled around with her well enough to think you might have sired a child with her." Carl's hand crept to his chest, and Finn shivered at the brush of his palm against his left nipple.

"That was before." Finn caught his breath as Carl's fingers pinched, rolled, prodded. "God."

"Nice." Carl's lips smiled against his cheek. "Before what?"

"Before guys. Before I realized what I was missing. Before Kurt, and Puck, and - god." The other nipple, now, and harder, much harder than he thought he would have liked, and there were nails involved and - "God!"

"Shhhh," Carl soothed. "Don't get so tense. Just let it happen. Finn, just because you love men doesn't mean you can't continue to love women, too. You don't need to put yourself in a box. The best thing you can do for yourself is just to be honest with your attractions. No categories, no limitations. Simply... sensation." He dug in again with his nails, and Finn whined, trying to breathe through it. "There's no gender there."

"I do like boobs," Finn admitted. "I miss them, sometimes."

"See? That's something none of your current lovers can provide. There's nothing wrong with wanting that." The nails skated down Finn's abdomen to the tense muscles below his navel, and Finn thrust up reflexively. "Calm down," Carl said again. Finn tried his best.

"So... what, you think I should... date girls?" He thought of Rachel's crestfallen face today, her voice saying be honest with me. "I don't think I could do that and pretend not to be with you guys, too."

Carl's fingers were on his pelvis now, tracing patterns on the skin between his thigh and his cock, which was apparently off-limits. "I'm not asking you not to be honest," he said. "If there were a girl in your life you might feel comfortable enough with to date, I can imagine you might tell her... almost everything."

"Almost," Finn agreed, trying not to move his hips. "Okay, yeah, there might be... somebody. But I don't know... she's a lot of work."

Carl chuckled, and the vibration sent uncontrollable shivers down his body. He tried to control his breathing. "You think that anything worth having is easy?"

"No, maybe not."

"What was that?" His lips closed on Finn's ear and bit down, hard, at the same time his hands wrapped around Finn's cock. Finn cried out, first wordlessly, then the words flooded out in response to Carl's demand.

"Sir, yes, sir, god, yes..."

"You're entitled to have everything," Carl said, his voice impossibly calm, even as his jeans-clad erection ground against Finn's bare, well-spanked bottom. "Everything you want. But you have to be willing to work for it."

Finn managed to continue making noise. "I don't know... if it's worth it."

"It's worth it if you decide it is." Carl's voice was right in his ear, and his strokes became both slower and more intense. "It's your life. No one can choose it for you." He chuckled, low and sultry. "But right now... you have no choice. Right now, who's in charge?"

"Y-you are, sir," gasped Finn. "Oh... oh, god..."

"That's right. And you're going to give it up to me. Right now."

It was immediate and sharp and completely involuntary, and within ten seconds, Finn found himself sprawled back on the couch, twitching and blinking up at Carl. He smiled down at Finn.

"You'd better head home." Carl extracted himself from under Finn's dead weight and walked toward the kitchen, leaving him there to consider his words in solitude.

* * *

By the time he ran into her tomorrow morning, Finn had decided what he wanted to do about Rachel. He gave her a brave smile.

"Hey, Rachel, can we talk?" He paused, then pressed on. "I realized I don't want to date other girls. Only you."

She barely glanced at him. "I'm glad you've come to that realization, but you're too late. I've met someone. A boy who's finally worthy of my talent and love."

Finn's mind went blank for a moment. All he could think was, no way. Rachel's in love with me. Nobody else. Which was way more possessive than he'd expected to feel about her. He shook his head. "Whoa, wait... do I know him? Is he bigger than me?"

"Oh, he doesn't go to this school," she went on blithely. "And he's a senior. His name is Jesse and he's the male lead in Vocal Adrenaline. We're both aware that our Romeo and Juliet romance will be a challenge, but our deep respect for each other's talent will carry us through."

Finn frowned. "Rachel, don't you think that's kind of suspicious? That we make it to regionals and suddenly the top guy from our main competition picks you up?"

Rachel put on her best superior look. "I know it's hard to believe that anyone would like me without an ulterior motive..." Finn tried not to wince, because that was exactly what he'd been doing. "But you have to respect that our love is real." Her eyebrows were pitying. "Move on, Finn. I finally have."

Finn watched her walk down the hall with trepidation. It wasn't a good situation for him personally, granted, but all he could think at the moment was: _what happens to Glee if this Jesse guy breaks Rachel?_

He hesitated for just a moment before heading to the choir room.

"Mr. Schue," he said, "we have a problem."

* * *

Toby didn't even bother to open the garage when he got home on Thursday evening; he just left the car on the gravel driveway and stumbled into the house, rubbing his bleary eyes and trying not to think about the lesson planning he still had to do before the next day. He pawed in his jacket pocket for his key for more than a minute before he remembered he hadn't bothered to lock his door. _Living in a podunk town like this means you don't have to do that shit. Guess there's got to be some kind of benefit to being in Middle-of-Nowheresville, Ohio._

He opened the door to the mud room and the second door to the family room, tipping his bag onto the couch and leaning on the piano to take off his shoes before heading around the fireplace to the dining room - and stopped short. Sitting at his dining table was Will, resplendent with candles and dinner spread before him, an expectant, self-satisfied smile on his face.

"I came in your back door," he said, then paused with such a comical look of embarrassment that Toby had to laugh. "I really didn't mean that - like it sounded."

"You'd better, darlin'," Toby purred, and opened his arms to welcome Will's embrace.

They didn't make it past the couch before their clothes came off, and by the time they got back to dinner, it was cold and the candles were half the height as which they'd started. They sat naked on Toby's mismatched chairs, and ate Will's delicious noodles and salad and grinned like idiots across the table at one another.

Toby took a sip of wine. "Please, don't tell me you drove all this way out here to visit me only to go home."

"No, I took Friday off." Will looked apologetic. "I'm actually here for work. I need to have a conversation with your director about one of her students."

"Really? Who?"

"A boy named Jesse. He's dating Rachel."

Toby nearly choked on his forkful of noodles. "Jesse St. James? Gracious light, Will, that boy is as gay as - uh, me."

"Huh." Will sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'm not sure what to think about that. Finn thinks he's manipulating her, and I'm inclined to agree, but... I had to come out and talk to someone. What's her name? Ms. Corcoran?"

"Shelby, yeah." He took another thoughtful bite. "She'll talk to you. I haven't quite figured out Jesse yet, but I've only met him a few times. Manipulative, though, yes, and talented and power-hungry."

"Well, I hope a conversation tomorrow will help me figure some of it out. We really can't handle losing Rachel from New Directions." Will hesitated, then added, "Uh, another thing... Emma and I have come to an... arrangement."

 _This sounds interesting._ Toby tried to stay calm. "Oh yeah?"

Will nodded soberly. "She's helping me with a little misdirection for Sue, and the rest of the community. She's... pretending to be my girlfriend."

Toby put down his fork as calm went out the window. "Emma? The woman who was so desperately in love with you that she decided not to marry her fiancé?"

Will held up two hands in pacification, interrupting his impending tirade. "She said she wasn't looking for that from me. That she understood it wasn't going to be that kind of relationship. She needs... well, she's looking for a man, somebody she can trust, but she's never... I mean she's never..." He raised a meaningful eyebrow at Toby.

"No kiddin'," Toby murmured, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head.

"Yeah," Will agreed. "She's dealing with a lot, anxiety and her OCD. If she could just get over some of these issues, she's sure she could handle a real relationship. But right now..." He shrugged, taking another bite of salad.

Toby watched him eat in silence. "You're thinkin' you can help her with those... issues."

"Well, yeah." He glanced up at Toby, then back down.

"Will..." He leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. "You're gonna have sex with her?"

Will flushed. "I don't... Toby, it's not like that. I don't want her that way."

It was all Toby could do not to rise to his feet and yell, but somehow he managed to keep it under wraps. "Yeah. You've only been talking about her for the past year, like she was this perfect precious thing. Tell me you don't want her that way."

"I don't!" he protested. "Not like - god, Toby, why are we doing this? It's not like how it is with you. It's never been like that with Terri, or anybody else. Not anybody else."

"Maybe not, but it doesn't mean you don't want it. Don't miss it." He stared at Will until he looked away. "Yeah. I gave up everything for you, William. I came to a nowhere town, left all my friends and my community - for what? So I could watch you make a mess of things with another girl?"

Will looked desperately at the door. "Maybe I should go," he whispered.

Toby closed his eyes. "Your solution to everything. Well, you can't run away this time, Will. I'm here now, in your state, in your space. You have to deal with it. Make a choice. What's it going to be? Me, or her?"

"You, Toby," Will said passionately, coming around the table to take Toby's hands in his. "It's you - it's always been you."

This time, they managed to get up to the second floor, sprawled on top of Toby's queen-sized bed. Will's hands were strong on Toby's arms, and their mouths were hot and insistent. There wasn't any question in either of their minds how much they both wanted it.

Lying together in the dimness of the evening, Toby's head on his chest, it was hard to remember why he'd been angry at all.

"We've both always had other lovers," Toby said, listening to Will's slow heartbeat. "If you really want that, I'm not gonna tell you no. I don't even know what bothers me so much about the idea of you with Emma."

"It it because she's a woman?" Will murmured, touching Toby's hair. "I feel so bad for her, Toby. She's scared of men, of all these invisible enemies on everything she touches. She's been my closest friend these past couple years. And she knows about you, which is a huge relief. I want... to help her, you know?"

 _Help her._ Toby sighed to himself. "Yeah, I get that. As long as you're thinkin' it's not going to backfire and hurt her in the end." _Or you. Or me._

"I think, if I can really help her get past this phobia, maybe she can start to put her trust in someone. Someone who can really take care of her." Will sounded sad. "I don't think I can be that person. But somewhere out there, there's got to be someone who can."

* * *

Waking up with Toby, jockeying for space in the shower, brushing their teeth together, having a bowl of oatmeal in the big kitchen - it felt like the sweetest kind of dream to Will.

"Can I make you lunch?" he offered, and Toby's answering smile went straight to his heart.

"Darlin', I'd love that, but I promised I'd meet with my principal during that time. He's going to take me out and discuss the VA boosters." He leaned in and gave Will a kiss before grabbing his jacket. "Good luck with Shelby today."

Will saw him turn left at the highway toward Starbucks. For a moment, he considered following him there, just to see the boy who reminded Toby so much of Colin, but he decided he really didn't need one more thing to worry about.

Driving Toby's route to school was an experience he tried to savor, to take it all in and appreciate every turn, every street sign and tree along the way, so he'd be able to remember it when he was back in Lima. It was amazing how being closer to each other in space was making him feel closer to him in his heart, too.

The school was just as posh and gleaming as he'd feared. It was kind of nice to think that Toby would have that kind of work environment, but he couldn't help but feel a little stab of envy. What I wouldn't give for an auditorium like this one for my kids, he thought, as he made his way down the aisle toward the brunette in the center. He watched Vocal Adrenaline tear up the stage with a ripping version of "Highway to Hell."

"Stop, please, just, dear god, please stop," said the director, tossing her pen down. "Seriously, guys, it's like watching beige paint dry."

Will watched as she asked Jesse to demonstrate a show face. The boy was tall and handsome, with curly hair that reminded him of his own - though he'd had no idea how to style it, back when he was in high school - and, from what little he'd seen and heard, clearly talented. He sighed. Rachel would be completely smitten with him. He held out his hand. "Excuse me, Ms. Corcoran? Will Schuester."

She looked at him blankly. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."

"I coach the McKinley Glee club," he said. Her face darkened.

"I don't usually cotton too well to my competition sneaking in and watching rehearsal..." She smirked. "... but I also have trouble seeing you guys as competition."

He sighed. "I believe you have a student named Jesse St. James? I think he might be dating one of my students. I'm more than a little concerned with the whole fraternizing-with-the-enemy aspect of their relationship."

"You think we're spying on you?" she scoffed.

"Honestly? Yes."

Shelby nodded. He thought he detected a hint of respect in her face. "Noted. But I don't stand for any funny business, and Jesse's a good kid. I mean, what can you do? The heart wants what the heart wants." She eyed him. "Sometimes there's that little spark."

He watched her, suddenly nervous. "Uh... yeah, I suppose that's true. But my kids have said in no uncertain terms that if Rachel is dating Jesse, she can't be in our Glee club. And I'm not going to lie; we really need her."

She laughed. "I'll be the first to agree with you, that Jesse and Rachel should not be dating. I'll make that crystal clear to him." She gestured with her head. "Come on; I've got to finish this rehearsal, and then we can continue this conversation in the teacher's lounge."

It was absolutely not in the plan for Will to enjoy watching Shelby work, but it was clear she was talented and knowledgeable. When she said, "I'm sure Mr. Grey hadn't intended for your turns to look like that," he about choked, but he managed to keep his thoughts to himself.

It also was not in the plan for him to end up on the couch with Shelby, his hands in her hair and their mouths all over each other. He wasn't even sure how it happened, exactly, but when he realized she was talking about work and trying to get his shirt off at the same time, Will held out his hands and leaned back on the couch.

"Okay - wait, wait, we have to stop. I just can't do this."

She leaned on one elbow, looking crestfallen. "Aw, I'm sorry, I'm all business. I'm trying to work on that."

"No, it isn't that."

"What, are you gay?"

Will started guiltily. "What? … No!"

She shrugged. "Because most of the show choir directors I make out with are gay."

He wasn't even sure how to respond to that. "I - why would they make out with you, then?"

Shelby gave him a _duh_ look. "Because they're insecure and confused, like the rest of us? Because human beings are more interested in making a connection and having physical contact than what our genitals require to get off?"

It sounded so rational the way she said it. "I think I need a cup of coffee," he said, his eyes on the counter across from them. "You want one?"

She watched as he scooted out from the couch and over to the kitchenette, taking two mugs down off the rack. "I think coffee's not going to solve my problem," said Shelby glumly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I spend every waking moment thinking about Vocal Adrenaline. I have no life. I mean, now that we have a new choreographer, maybe it'll be easier, but... seriously, Will, I don't think you understand how much work it is. I haven't been on a date in three years." As he handed her a mug, she smiled at him slyly. "I did lie to you earlier. I do know who you are."

Will froze, trying not to panic. _Toby wouldn't have told - maybe she saw a picture of me, or -_

"I saw you at our fall invitational. I thought you were really cute."

He relaxed, smiling, and rummaged in the fridge for some milk. "I know what you mean about being obsessed with work. I'm so committed to the Glee club, and to... uh, the arts. They played a big part in ending my marriage."

She tilted her head quizzically. "How long have you been divorced?"

"Um... well, I'm not really divorced yet. And... actually, I'm seeing someone I really care about. Only isn't working for some reason..."

"Whoa," she said, shaking her head. "You're already seeing someone else and you were just making out with me?"

He winced. "Yeah... I'm kind of a mess."

"Look, I don't want to tell you how to live your life," Shelby began.

"Please," Will begged, "be my guest."

Shelby paused, blinking at him for a moment. Finally, she said, "I think you need to take some time. To reintroduce yourself to yourself. You just finished being somebody's husband, and that didn't really work out, and now you're running off to be somebody's boyfriend? Seems to me you need to take a little breather."

She stood, approaching him with a little smile. "Look... that hair, that dimple... I think you're about the cutest thing I've ever seen. Here's my number. When you get things sorted out, give me a call. Thanks for the coffee... and the making out? Kind of hot."

He tried to smile back, but he couldn't get any words out. She paused in the doorway. "I need to get back to work, but - I'll talk to Jesse, okay? Don't worry about him. Like I said, he's a good kid. Believe me, I trust him like he was my own son."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby has Brittany, Kurt, Puck and Rachel over to his house to help plan his garden, and Shelby stops by. Puck recognizes her. Meanwhile, Rachel sneaks off to meet Jesse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thanks for knittycat99's valiant handling of the beginning of this chapter; you got me out of my stuck place, dear one! 
> 
> More quoting from 1.14 Hell-O. There are a few important first time encounters in this chapter. Warnings for mild and unknowing incestuous kissing. I think Jesse and Rachel should go as Luke and Leia for Halloween, don't you? 
> 
> Enjoy.  
> -amy

Toby stood on his porch and watched while all four doors of Kurt's Navigator opened and kids poured out.

"I thought you were just bringing Brittany? Aren't we doing garden stuff today?" Toby pulled his jacket closer around himself; yeah, it was a little damp and cold to be thinking about planting already, but Brittany had just gazed longingly at the swath of yard between the house and the lake after her lesson last weekend and told him that he really needed to at least think about plots.  _Once it warms up, we won't have long to get things into the ground_ , she told him, and since he was trading her gardening skills for dance lessons, he felt like he couldn't complain.

"We are," Kurt called. "Puck wanted to talk to you about a kitchen garden."

"Dude," Puck said, bounding up the stairs. "You live in the middle of freaking nowhere, and you can't eat take out every damn night." He bumped Toby boyishly with his hip. "I do know how you value your - what was it, baby?"

"Girlish figure?" Kurt asked with a smirk, joining them on the porch. Toby just nudged them into the house and gave Brittany a hug.

"I have plans!" she told him excitedly. "This is the most fun part, picking out what you want. I think you need to grow strawberries. They make great ice cream, in the summer." Toby waited for her to follow the boys.

The last of them, Rachel, was standing shyly at the bottom of the steps. Toby didn't know her very well at all, other than by reputation.  _Loud_ , Puck had said, and Kurt had called her  _lonely_. Finn had remained oddly silent, but Toby also didn't know Finn quite as well. He was busy, and from what he'd gathered spent most of his Saturdays doing something in Columbus.

"Hi, Rachel. Come on, it's awful cold out here. The others just make themselves at home, but I can give you the dime tour if you'd like."

"Thank you, Mr. Grey." She moved carefully up the steps, staring at her ballet flats like they were going to betray her and send her sliding over the slick wood.

"Toby, please. I'm only Mr. Grey to my students, and even then only because they need the discipline of formality. But you're not one of my students, so... please, come in." He ushered her into the living room, and took her coat.  _Always a gentleman_ , Shelby told him whenever he did the same for her.  _Too bad you don't play for my team_. Toby was secretly grateful, because he was a little afraid of Shelby. She seemed like she took great pleasure in chewing men up and spitting them out.

"Toby! Can we make cocoa?" Puck called out from the kitchen.

"Follow the noise," he whispered to Rachel. "Tell Puck yes, and I'll be right along."

She smiled at him and walked carefully to the back of the house. He felt bad for her, clearly tagging along and a little on the outside of things. He just wasn't clear on what she was doing here, with the others.

* * *

Puck found the cocoa at the top of the cupboard, next to the instant ( _yuck)_ coffee. "How can you even keep instant in the house, man? That shit's disgusting." He glanced at Toby, who was watching from the doorway.

Kurt handed him a pot and headed over to the fridge for the milk with a little smile. "It's for the days when someone oversleeps and has to skip his Starbucks run. Or could it be you secretly don't need coffee at all, and you just have a fixation with the cute barista?"

"I definitely need the coffee," Toby said, but his light blush spoke volumes. "Though the cute barista doesn't hurt anything."

"Whatever," Puck said, wanting to join in on the teasing but still not a hundred percent sure how to do it the same way Kurt and Toby did. He turned to glance at Rachel. "Cocoa? I don't know . . ."

"That's okay," she said, reaching into her purse. "I carry my own tea, Noah, because not everyone is aware of all the different things that contain animal products. Thank you for asking."

Puck turned back to the stove, set the kettle on for Rachel's tea and poured a healthy amount of milk into the pan. "You're talking to the wrong guy, Berry. I know exactly what's in everything I make." He raised his eyebrows at her suggestively. "Everything."

She turned as pink as her raincoat and coughed. "I'll remember that," she muttered.

Kurt added cocoa to the milk in the pan and set it on low, choosing a spoon from the pot next to the stove. "Be nice," he whispered. "She's out of her element here."

"Why did you invite her anyway?" He hoped they were whispering soft enough.

"She  _asked_  to come along. And she needs friends, if we're going to distract her from dating that Jesse kid. She's not hurting anything, or anyone. Just . . . try. For me, sweetheart?"

Puck sighed. It felt weird, with Rachel there. Like they couldn't act the way they usually did at Toby's. It didn't feel  _safe_. "I'll try," he muttered.

The window out the back looked over the garden, and further down the hill, the smaller of the two lakes. He could see Brittany walking the space, touching the dirt, looking at what plants were already buried there, under the snow. Then he watched as she stood, and turned, facing the garage, talking to someone. It was a dark-haired woman. At first he didn't recognize her, but as she turned toward the house, he saw her eyes.

"Holy shit," he whispered. Then he stopped. He couldn't say anything to Kurt, or  _anyone_ , because he remembered exactly where he'd seen this woman before.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Kurt looked over his shoulder. "Do you . . .  _know her_?"

"No," he replied softly. "No, I don't. She just looks familiar, is all."

She came right to the house and through the back door into the kitchen, calling, "Toby? It's  _January,_  honey. You don't start gardening in Ohio until - oh." The woman took in the kitchen full of boys with one glance.

"Shelby," Toby said with a funny kind of twisted smile. "It's  _Saturday_. Is there something you need that couldn't be settled with a phone call?"

She arched her eyebrow in a manner that looked remarkably familiar. "I don't know how things were for you in Denver, Toby, but at Carmel, we don't ever stop teaching." She handed him a sheaf of papers. "My notes, from Thursday's observation of your senior dance class. I had some thoughts on the - uh, that number with the lifts."

Rachel was watching her, head tilted to the side. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "You must be Shelby Corcoran." She turned to Puck and Kurt. "The coach of Vocal Adrenaline."

"Yes, Rachel," Toby sighed. "Shelby Corcoran, some of my young friends. Rachel, Kurt, and Noah, and you met Brittany outside. Boys." Toby looked at them. "Why don't you take Rachel out and show her the studio."

"Actually," Rachel fidgeted, twisting her hands in the hem of her unicorn sweater, "I saw a market on our way in, and I'd love some soy milk and raw sugar for my tea. Kurt, is there any way I could borrow your car?"

"She's a little crazier than I thought if she expects to find soy milk at  _that_  store," Puck muttered. He averted his eyes from Shelby's face. He couldn't quite tell if she recognized him or not, although he thought he'd seen a flash of awareness when she'd come in the door.

Kurt handed her the keys to the Navigator. "Not one scratch," he said.

"I'm a very careful driver," she said, grasping the keys before flouncing out of the kitchen with a little wave.

"I wouldn't mind a mug of cocoa myself," Shelby said to Puck with a brisk smile. "Toby, can I have a moment with you in the dining room?"

"Of course." Toby ushered her through the door with a backward glance to Puck. "Don't burn my kitchen down."

"No worries," Puck said, sounding as offhand as he could manage. But as soon as Toby was out of sight, Kurt was on him in an instant.

"What the hell? Are you  _sure_  you don't know her, because it seemed like maybe she knew  _you_."

"Kurt," Puck moaned, setting the spoon on the stove. "I can't... fuck, man, I saw her at  _Dr. Howell's,_  okay?"

"You - oh." Kurt's eyes were huge as he glanced through the doorway to the dining room. "You saw her there? What do you mean?"

"I mean, I saw her coming out of Dr. Howell's office." He drummed his hand against his thigh in agitation. "It was . . . right around when my Ma died, so maybe I didn't see right. But I'd swear it was her."

"Wow. Um... you know you can't say anything, right?"

Puck sighed in frustration. "God, Kurt. I'm not three. I'm not just gonna talk about  _that_  with anyone. You  _know_  that. I get that it's not just a secret for us; it's like that for other people too. I just . . . I'm  _curious_ , you know?" He tried to catch a glimpse of Toby and this Shelby woman talking in the dining room, but Toby kept shifting his place and he could only see the side of her head. "Plus, she was kind of upset when she left. I think she was crying."

Kurt picked up the spoon and stirred the cocoa. "Curiosity killed the cat, sweetheart. And whatever she was or wasn't doing there, it was  _her_  business."

"Yeah, I know. I mean, I probably looked like a huge mess the last time I left there, myself." He sighed. "I just -" He stopped, as Shelby returned to the kitchen.

"Toby wants to talk to you, Kurt," she said, seating herself at the bar stool. She nodded at the door, clearly waiting for him to leave. Kurt paused, glanced at Puck once, then vanished.

Puck busied himself with pouring her a mug of cocoa, and tried to ignore the butterflies dancing in his stomach. Kurt was right, he couldn't say anything. He decided to wait and see if  _she_  did.

"Thank you," she said, taking a tentative sip. "Oh, it's just right to drink."

"Yeah," Puck shrugged. "You have to be careful not to get it too hot, or you scorch the milk, and then it's just nasty. And, you know. Too hot to drink, then, too, and all the whipped cream melts. But Toby doesn't have whipped cream, so." He was babbling.

"So." She gazed across the counter at him, and folded her hands with a sigh. "Let's just get this out there. Did Carl send you?"

"Excuse me?" He wasn't stupid, but he really wasn't following.

"I know where I saw you," she snapped. "There's no way you're here by chance. So, what is it? Are you checking up on me, what?"

"I was right," he mumbled mostly to himself before lifting his gaze to meet hers across the island. "You saw me there, but I didn't even know who you were. I was there for . . . um."

"Oh, my god." She stared at him. "You're one of his  _clients?_  Aren't you in high school? He doesn't do stuff like that with minors. Well... Jesus." Her cheeks were red. "I'm sorry - that was inappropriate of me."

He felt a little affronted at the idea that he'd need to pay somebody to give him what Kurt and Adam did because they loved him, but he couldn't explain  _that._  "Uh, I'm not a client. Not anymore. I mean, I was, but only because Tess said he should teach us. It wasn't something -"

"Tess." She paused. Now her cheeks had gone pale again. "How do you know  _her?"_

"Long story. We -" He shook his head. "I can't say anything more without asking... uh, somebody."

"That tells me something. You have someone, then." She paused, and let the words flick out quietly across the counter. "A Top."

"Heh. It's that obvious, huh?" He shrugged, and smiled at her. "Two of them, actually," he admitted, feeling happy. "Kurt said it wasn't my business, but. Are you - ?"

"I think that might not be any of your business," she said, looking dangerous, but Puck knew enough to tell the difference between Toppiness and bitchiness. He smirked at her.

"Sure. Whatever." He watched her glare at him with a sense of satisfaction. "I know the score. You wouldn't be there to see  _him_  if  _you_  were one, too. So you're like me."

"You have no idea what you -" she said, raising her voice, then cut off, dropping to a furious whisper. "Fine. Think whatever you want. What do you want from me?"

Puck almost snickered. "Excuse me?"

She gestured imperiously. "Come on. What do I need to give you to keep quiet?" Her gaze became calculating. "Just because I don't do  _that_  doesn't mean I can't make it worth your while."

He almost laughed. "Sorry, babe. I've got enough people feeding the Puckasaurus to keep my schedule pretty full. I don't need one more."

Shelby nodded, watching him. "All right, then. So what? Everybody has a price."

Puck sighed. "Forget it. No price. I'm not going to tell anybody I saw you there."

But she gave him an incredulous look. "Of course you will. You're just like my ex-husband. There's not a Top on this planet that couldn't roll you with one word. I need some leverage. Come on: money? What's it going to take?"

He just stared at her, not knowing what to say. Shelby reached out and fingered the bottle of Emilia Romagna Manicarda on the counter, wiping off a dollop of oil and placing a finger in her mouth. "I wouldn't have pegged Toby for a foodie. He brings leftover takeout for lunch. What's he doing with fifty dollar olive oil?"

"It's mine," said Puck, appropriating the bottle. "I'm making dinner tonight."

She targeted him with that vicious eyebrow again. "You? Please. You wouldn't know a merengue from a soufflé."

"Not unless you count the fact that they're both made with whisked egg whites," Puck said, shrugging.

"Hmm." Shelby paused and cocked her head. "But no olive oil?"

"Yeah, if you want your egg whites foamy instead of stiff." He wrinkled his nose. "No fat with egg whites."

She laughed. "Okay. You convinced me." Then she cocked her head. "You some kind of chef, huh? Bet I could cook a meal for you that would knock your socks off. Would that be worth a closed mouth about my presence in Carl's office? And no cheating?"

Puck opened his mouth to say  _dude, I said I wouldn't say anything,_  but then he closed it again. This chick sounded like she knew what she was talking about. At the very least, it'd be an opportunity to show her up. At best, he'd get some free food out of it. "Okay," he said, holding out a hand. "You've got yourself a deal, Ms. Corcoran."

"Shelby," she said, shaking it. She took a piece of paper from Toby's shelf and scribbled a number and an address on it. "No cheating," she repeated with a stern look, handing him the paper. "You're on your honor."

Puck watched her leave through the back door and walk around to the front of the garage. Less than a minute after she departed, Kurt was in the doorway. "Is she gone?" he hissed.

"Yeah," said Puck. Kurt heaved a huge sigh.

"God, she's stressful. I feel terrible for Toby, having to deal with her every day."

Puck shrugged. "I don't know. She's kind of a ball-buster, but I admire that." He set the Manicarda on the counter. "And she knows her olive oil."

* * *

Jesse was a little surprised to find a gleaming blue Navigator in Shelby's parking space. He'd told Rachel she could park there, since it was Saturday, but he didn't expect a girl from Lima to have such a slick ride.

It was a long drive, as he knew well, but he'd been pretty sure she'd show. There wasn't any reason for him not to believe his fawning and smooth words wouldn't find their way into her heart. She was as easily manipulated as most of the boys he dated. He stuffed down the irrational guilt he felt about doing it to a girl, though.  _As though a girl were any less worthy of deception than a boy._ He ducked through the back door that he'd left propped open and into the auditorium. She was already on the stage; he reached over and flipped the switch for the brightest spotlight.

"Jesse?" he heard her fearful voice cry, as she squinted into the glare. "I carry a rape whistle!"

"It's just me," he said, chuckling, and strode out on stage. "Most spots are 2500 watts. This one is ten times brighter. We have to wear sunscreen on stage, but it's worth it."

Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear. "I guess everything is bigger and brighter here." She stared at him with the same intensity as the spotlight. "I have to ask you something. And I need you to tell me the truth, because if you don't, there will be consequences. Life and death consequences. It'll be the kind of heartbreak that girls like me carry for the rest of our lives. Like Barbra in The Way We Were."

Jesse couldn't help it: his face split in a smile, and he threw his head back, laughing incredulously. "Oh, my god," he said. He gathered her up in his arms and held her, gazing down on her. It was a little bit shocking, but he was feeling twinges of genuine fondness for this girl. "You're more of a drama queen than I am."

She was silent, giving him the most effective kicked-puppy look he'd ever seen. He sighed, then stepped back and held out his hand. "Hi," he said. "I'm Jesse."

Rachel shrugged listlessly. "I know who you are."

He shook his head. "You know Jesse St. James, star of Vocal Adrenaline, your competition at regionals. I want to introduce you to the real Jesse. Jesse Lawton. The guy who's nuts about you. The guy who would never hurt you."

She still looked suspicious, but she stepped into his arms again. Jesse held her head against his chest, not even bothering to fight the feelings of protectiveness that washed over him this time.  _She needs somebody to take care of her. Just like Dad said: some people need that. Maybe... maybe I can take care of her? Maybe this doesn't have to be all about a lie. Maybe there can be something good in it, too._

"No one can know," she said, and he stroked back her hair from her face.

He nodded soberly. "I understand."  _I have plenty of secrets. What's one more?_

But as she leaned in for a kiss, he spied Shelby in the wings. She didn't look happy, but he tried to focus on what was in front of him.  _One thing at a time. Wouldn't do for her to get suspicious. I can deal with Shelby later._

Later came more quickly than he'd anticipated. She found him on his way back to the parking lot.

"What do you think you were  _doing_  back there?" she hissed. "I told you to watch her, not try to get into her pants!"

"Relax. It's not your problem how I keep an eye on her, right? If I can handle it, you can too."

Her glare was hard enough to cut glass. "You have  _no_  idea what you're messing with. You need to get it through your head that there can be  _nothing_  between the two of you. Understand? This is a  _job,_  and that's it."

"Whatever you say,  _mom,_ " he drawled, grinning at her outraged expression. He reached out and patted her cheek. "You're so adorable when you're pissed."

"God, if your father didn't like it so much, I'd kick his ass. You're acting just like him." She made a flickering motion with her hand. "Get the hell out of here before I suspend you or something completely inappropriate. And keep your teenage mitts to yourself, understand? I thought you were  _gay."_

He grinned bigger as he headed out the door. "I'm not interested in getting off. This is acting. A perfect opportunity to see who I can convince."

But later, he couldn't help taking his phone out of his pocket and sending her a text:  _No one will know. Don't worry._

_You're wonderful,_  she replied, with a little smiley face.  _See you Tuesday, Jesse Lawton._

Seeing his real name printed out like that gave him a shiver. He hadn't used that name since he'd decided to go into show business, and Shelby had coached him to use a stage name. Now, he wondered how much of that coaching was because she'd had his best interests at heart... or her own.

* * *

Finn didn't come in for dinner. Carole watched him out the front window until she was sure he wasn't playing some kind of a trick, then she put on her coat, went out and sat next to him, legs dangling off the porch. He smiled at her halfheartedly.

"Where are the boys tonight?" she asked.

"At Toby's. Brittany Pierce is trying to convince him to put in a kitchen garden."

She nodded. "You and Puck..."

Finn turned away. "He didn't say anything to me today."

"I suppose you didn't say anything to him, either, hmmm?" She watched him shake his head. "What's going on?"

"It's about Rachel. She went out to Carmel with the guys, too." He sighed. "I think she's seeing this one boy from Carmel. She promised Glee she wouldn't, but... I'm pretty sure she is, anyway."

Carole studied him. Rachel had been over at their house more often than usual, but it hadn't been for more than a brief visit. "And this is a problem because...?"

"He's, like, the lead singer guy. Apparently he's a senior and he really wowed Rachel."

Now  _that_  was a tone she hadn't expected to hear in his voice. "Finn? You're not... I mean, Rachel's not your... "

"We were, kind of? She sure seemed to think we were dating. But then she said she wanted honesty, and... I just couldn't pretend, anymore. Not without telling her about me, and the guys. And she... uh, she's worse than Puck at keeping a secret."

Carole put a hand on his shoulder. "Honey, I'm not trying to make any assumptions here, but didn't you tell me you were gay?"

"Yeah," he said, and sighed. "I'm... I don't know, mom. I thought I liked girls for a long time. And there're things about girls I still like. And Rachel, she's kind of special. I don't feel about her the way I feel about Kurt, or Puck, or... but she's awesome. And when we sing together, I definitely feel  _something._  Because, you know, performing with someone, singing with them... or for them... that's amazing. And nobody sings like Rachel." He kicked the snowbank. "Last week she got really mad at me and sang this song. Telling me to go to hell. To hurt me."

"Yeah? And?"

Finn shrugged. "And it did." He gazed pleadingly at her. "That should mean something, right?"

"Honey, it sounds an awful lot like you're trying to convince me of something." She patted the shoulder. "Or yourself."

He didn't respond. It wasn't the first time she'd challenged him about a decision, but it didn't happen very often. She tried again. "What is it you want from her?"

Finn considered this, as he usually did. "I want her to be happy," he said. "She's not... well, people don't treat her so well. That's not right. She's a good person. And she's been honest with me."

"That sounds a lot like what a good friend would do," Carole said. "You don't have to date a girl to be her friend."

"She's more than a friend, mom." The snowbank was taking a real beating under his foot. "I don't  _know_  what she is, but I think... I have to figure this out."

Carole shivered in the mid-January evening, squinting into the sun. "I wonder if this has anything to do with what's happening with Puck."

"Mom..."

"Because if I had a fight with  _my_  boyfriend and wasn't speaking to him, I might be feeling pretty lonely. Huh?"

He visibly wrestled with this idea. "I don't think so, mom," he said at last. "Because I still have Kurt, and... and Carl, and I  _still_  think I might... want... something with Rachel."

She sighed. "Do you know what I mean by the word  _finite,_  Finn?"

"Uh... is it a kind of rock?"

Carole tried not to smile. "It means a thing that's limited. The opposite of infinite. You are a finite resource, Finn. You can't keep spending yourself and never expect to run out."

"You think I'm going to run out of love?" Finn sounded perplexed.

"No, honey, not love. Time. Energy. Those things are your finite resources." She kissed his cheek. "I'm pretty sure you have enough room in your heart for everyone you'd ever want to love. But you can't split yourself infinitely thin. Something's going to have to give."

"Yeah, well..." He bowed his head. "Looks like it might be Puck."

She knew she wouldn't solve any of his problems right then, so she just patted him one more time and said, "Don't stay out here too late."

"I just have a phone call to make." He dialed a number, and Carole could hear, as she was going back into the house: "Hey, Rachel? It's Finn. I - I have something I need to tell you. About me, and Kurt. And... well, do you want to come over?"

* * *

Emma didn't have any trouble getting into Will's tiny apartment. He had told her exactly where she could find the key.  _I'm going out for an early movie with Toby tonight,_  he'd said,  _and then back to my place for dinner, so I can't see you._  He'd be so surprised. This would make up for her epic freak-out at the prospect of having sex.  _It was so nice of him to try. I think it really floored him that I was a virgin._ She grimaced as she adjusted the silverware for the eighteenth time.  _That's a title I'd be more than happy to be rid of._

"Beautiful table." Emma startled at the sound of Terri's voice. "Meticulous, really. I guess being crazy has its benefits."

Emma straightened her shoulders and gazed back at Terri defiantly. "It's date night," she said. "Actually, it was tomorrow, but Will wanted tonight, so..." She reached for the platter on the sideboard. "I'm surprising him and Toby. And I know he keeps a key under the mat." She knew her smile wasn't very nice, but she didn't feel very charitable toward Terri.

Terri approached the table slowly. "You're really loving this, aren't you?" she murmured.

"I take no pleasure in your pain, Terri," she said. "But I am enjoying Will get a second chance at happiness, yes."

"Oh, and you're the one to introduce him to the magical new world of bliss?" Terri's eyes were venomous. "What, you think he needs  _another_  girl? Because I'm pretty sure he's done with the fairer sex."

"I don't have any illusions about what Will can give me. He's my friend." Emma tossed her head. "Now, is there a reason that you're here? 'Cause I'd kind of like you to be gone when Toby gets here."

Terri stalked past her into the family room, staring at her in perplexity. "I'd just like to pick up the rest of my Bruckheimer DVDs." But she didn't get far.  _The Jazz Singer_  was sitting on the table, and Terri snatched it up. "Whose is this?"

"Mine," Emma said, but Terri was already shaking her head.

"It's  _his_ , isn't it? God, he's pathetic. And not even creative enough to choose something original.  _Hello_  was our prom song." Terri sounded satisfied. "No matter what Toby gave him all these years, he's still not over  _me._  You can tell him I said that. He's not ready for a real relationship with him. Or whatever this is with you. He's nothing but a confused, immature boy who wouldn't know the truth if it bit him on the butt." She handed the DVD back to Emma. "He's going to break your heart."

_He did that long ago,_  Emma didn't say, and averted her eyes as Terri went out the door.

* * *

Finn knew, no matter what Carl said about him, that he just wasn't all that smart. But he'd learned well enough that he should trust his intuition when it came to people. And it was pretty clear that Rachel wasn't telling him the whole truth when she told him the reasons why she couldn't date him.

_It's the team,_  she'd said.  _We can't have any drama right now. We have to focus on regionals._ But her eyes had flickered away from his, and she'd pursed her lips and closed her eyes in those telling motions he'd begun to recognize. She'd spoken so eloquently about wanting the truth, but now that she had some from him, she wasn't willing to share her whole heart anymore. It hurt, a little, because Finn had actually thought he might be able to trust Rachel.

So when Rachel ran off the stage at the end of their  _Hello, Goodbye_  number, Finn followed her back to the choir room, where she was stuffing her clothes into her backpack.

"Hey." He came to a halt a few steps away from her. "After you change, you want to get a smoothie?"

"I'm not going to change," she said, brushing her eyes with the side of her hand. "I'm going home. Right now. I can't stand being here, not one more minute."

"Because you're going to see  _him,"_ he said, and she paused, long enough for him to know he was right. "So what was all that about being honest with me, then? Guess you've given that up already, huh?"

"Yeah?" She rounded on him, eyes blazing. "And you were so truthful with _me?_  Turns out practically the whole Glee club knew about you and your whole  _squadron_ of boyfriends. Boyfriends, Finn?" She was fuming, and he knew better than to get in the way of that. "You  _knew_  I'd be supportive, and you still didn't tell me."

"No, I knew you wouldn't get it," he replied. "I knew you'd think there was something wrong with  _you,_  if I wanted to date you and still be with other people. I think I know you well enough to expect that. You didn't just want to be with me; you wanted me all to yourself."

"And what's wrong with that, Finn?" she said, throwing her arms out. "What's wrong with wanting that? Isn't that what most normal people want?"

He felt himself flinch. "Are you listening to yourself? Normal people? Tell me, do you think it's normal to be gay? Or bisexual, or whatever?"

"Of course I do, Finn," she whispered. "My dads are -"

"Yeah, I got that. That's normal, but you don't think it's normal to be in love with more than one person? Because I am, Rachel. I'm in love with them."

She scowled at him, fierce and thoughtful. "Puck, and Kurt."

"And other people," he insisted. "So why can't I be in love with you, too?"

For a minute, he thought maybe he'd broken her. She looked almost terrified, and put a hand over her mouth, shaking her head in denial. "No," she said.

"I'm not saying I am," he said, backtracking with an outstretched hand. "But... I don't know, Rachel. I like you, a lot, and... I think I could be."

"Finn..." She shook her head, taking a shaky breath. "You told me you were  _gay."_

"Or bisexual, or whatever," he added. "Rachel, I like  _you._  What does it matter who else I like?" He reached out and captured her free hand. "You want truth? I don't know how I feel about girls, but... when we sing together, I feel something. It's real. I can't ignore that."

"No," she said again, but this time it was in agreement. He let out a breath.

"Okay." He squeezed her hand and gave her a smile. "Okay. So can we at least say we're friends? You don't have to understand this about me, Rachel, but... give me a chance to show you it wouldn't make a difference."

"It does make a difference, Finn," Rachel whispered. "I can't...  _be_  with you if you're with other people. Boys, girls, that makes no difference. But I have to be the only one. I'm just not built to... to share like that."

Finn wrinkled his brow. "You're so sure about that. Just like you were so sure you could give up that Jesse kid." He abandoned all attempts at scorn, and just gave it to her honestly. "I don't think you want to give it a chance because you're afraid."

"Afraid, Finn?" Her voice rose, and she took a step closer. "Of getting my heart broken? Of  _course_  I am. Of being ignored in favor of your relationship with... I don't even know who else?" She flailed a hand at the risers. "How could this be going on right under my nose, and you didn't even tell me?"

He shook his head. "I haven't told very many people, Rachel. My mother, and Kurt and Puck and their families. Mr. Schue, Toby, Brad. Quinn. My... uh, my dentist. And that's about it. You're the next one who knows, and it has to stay that way. We can't risk Puck being sent away if Social Services finds out about us. I'm  _trusting_  you not to tell."

"And I won't, Finn," she replied, stony-faced. "Just like you won't tell anyone about me and Jesse."

_This was supposed to result in fewer lies, not more._ But he nodded, reluctantly. "I won't."

* * *

Carl gave the pasta a stir, then held the wooden spoon out for Finn to taste. He opened his mouth obligingly, and he nodded his approval, but his heart didn't seem in it.

"What's happening at school, Finn?" he asked. "How's Spanish coming?"

"Better," Finn said, with that dangerous crooked smile. "I think I'll get a hundred on my next quiz, or something close, anyway."

"Excellent." Carl reached into the pasta pot with tongs and lifted out a large scoop, which he plopped in the bowl on the counter.

"I, uh." He paused. "I thought about what you said. About... girls, and how I feel about them."

"You mentioned that, yes. Any conclusions?"

Finn took the bowl and got a fork from the silverware drawer, then perched on the stool across from Carl. This still made Finn taller than him. "I think I could date this one girl. And we were, kind of. I mean - I don't know; it doesn't matter much now anyway. I told her about everything, or almost everything, and she kind of freaked out?"

"She's bothered by the idea of you being with other boys," he guessed, but Finn shook his head.

"Nah, actually, I don't think that's it. She was mad I didn't tell her the truth. No, it was the idea of dating more than one person at a time that was too hard for her to deal with. She's kind of crazy, but... I don't know, I like that, maybe? And the gay thing, well, she's got two gay dads, so..."

The phrase was distinctive enough that Carl stopped breathing for a moment.  _Don't jump to conclusions,_  he thought, feeling the flesh along his spine stand up. As casually as he could, he asked, "What's this girl's name?"

"Rachel," Finn said.

Carl set the wooden spoon down on the counter, very carefully. He tried to appear as though he were simply leaning on the edge, rather than gripping it for dear life. Finn was going on in his usual enthusiastic manner.

"She's really talented. I love singing with her. I mean,  _you_  showed me that, sir. Singing with someone, how much that can touch you inside. Doesn't hardly matter what you sing, it's just..."

"Musical chemistry," Carl murmured. Finn nodded.

"Yeah! That's just it. Musical chemistry. Like, the fact that she's a girl, when we're doing that? It kind of doesn't matter anymore."

Carl managed to clear his throat. "We... Finn, you and I could do that together. Sing together, at Irene's coffeehouse, on Saturday. You... well, you don't have to go out with this... girl, just because you're grasping for some way to connect with her." He couldn't bring himself to say her name to Finn. He thought he might actually pass out if he tried.

"That's what my mom said," Finn nodded, eyes downcast. "I thought I knew what the hell I was doing, but... now I'm just  _confused,_  sir."

He sounded so bereft that Carl was stirred into action. His own worries always dropped away in the face of Finn's anxiety, and he just had to  _take care_ of it. Carl stepped close and put an arm around his waist, letting Finn lean in close. Finn's sigh mirrored his own.

"I pressured you into questioning your feelings for girls," Carl began, but Finn immediately stopped him.

"No, sir - you were right. I  _do_  have feelings for her. I just don't know what to do with them, because they're not exactly like any of the feelings I have for anybody else."

"Just because you have feelings doesn't mean you have to act on them."

"Well," Finn admitted, "I guess I am kind of busy."

Carl had to chuckle. "Yes. You are  _kind of_  busy."

"Yeah, so... one more person to take care of, I don't know. Seems kind of dumb. But... maybe I have to figure it out?" He looked at the wall. "And things with Puck... they're not so good right now. I guess I have a little more time than I used to."

Carl tried to be completely detached from any irrational distaste he felt about  _Finn_  and...  _the girl_  being romantic together. It was clear Finn wasn't trying to molest her in any way. He considered offering advice about the difference between musical chemistry and  _actual_ chemistry, but decided in the end that he didn't have enough rationality in his brain at the moment to offer a good explanation.

"I told you I would never stand in the way of you and other relationships," Carl said quietly, feeling the heat and pulse of Finn's neck against his cheek. "But I feel... uneasy about this one."

"Oh, well..." Finn laughed. "Rachel. She's fine. And things with her might be complicated, but I think it'll be okay. And I don't - I mean, I don't want -" He put a tentative hand on Carl's stomach, and Carl felt himself respond, despite the startling news, despite everything.  _Actual chemistry,_  Carl wanted to say, but he didn't.

"She's nothing like  _you,"_  Finn said.

Carl managed to stifle his laughter until he sent Finn off to the library to choose a DVD for after dinner, but once he was alone, it was too much for him, and he buried his face into his hands. A sound came out, like a mix between a sob and a hysterical scream.  _This isn't happening,_  he thought for one indulgent moment.  _This isn't my life._

Then he took out his phone and dialed the number for Tessera's house phone. "Steven," he said to the majordomo. "I need you to get a message to Tess. Not immediately urgent, but... I don't think I can talk to her directly right now."  _I might throw up._

"Certainly, Carl. What can I tell her?"

"Tell her..." He stared at the phone in his hand.  _What? I screwed everything up by telling Finn he shouldn't assume he's exclusively gay? I pressured Finn into dating more people when he's already stretching his limit? That Finn chose the one girl I never would have expected, and she's my freaking daughter?_

"Tell her," he said, rubbing his forehead, "I think I need a spanking."


End file.
